


Almost Easy

by mrandmrhale2



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Character Death, Dubious Consent, Frottage, Human AU, Jackson is an ass, M/M, Murder, Oral Sex, Secret Identity, Slow Build, Stilinski Family Feels, Teen Wolf AU, creepy Peter, stiles is an orphan, the stackson is a lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:52:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrandmrhale2/pseuds/mrandmrhale2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout his life, Stiles had learned a few things. One: Nothing was permanent. Two: promises were always broken. And three: no one was who they first appeared to be. Which is why he should have seen Derek Hale coming. But he didn't. No one did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Close to Hello

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first long fanfic, and so it's a little rough. It's unbeta'd, so pleeeeease point out any mistakes. It was originally written in 1st person, so point out if I left in an 'I' or a 'my'.

“Genim, sweetheart!” Stiles’ foster mother’s voice came from the base of the stairs. He ground his teeth together, and stayed where he was, burrowed in his blankets.

“Genim, hun, you’re going to be late.” he rolled his eyes, but grabbed his bag and went downstairs. 

“For the last time; my name is Stiles,” he grumbled, shrugging on his backpack.

She waited for him, her soft eyes narrowed and her arms crossed. Claudia Stilinski was his third foster mother this year, and he was anticipating having more. Her smile seems to be permanently etched on to her face.

Her husband, Sheriff Stilinski, was also kind and unyieldingly understanding. He was well respected, and had a cushy job patrolling the boring streets of Beacon Hills. Stiles had been to his office, and it was bigger than some of his former foster homes. 

He resented ever second he spent here.

Stiles knows he’s blowing everything out of proportion. He knows Claudia and John are good people that they care about him, even though he’s never offered a word of thanks. He knows that if he’d drop the bravado, even for a moment, he would love them. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t risk that again.

Stiles had been an orphan for his entire life. He was dropped off at a random hospital on week three of his pathetic existence. Since then he’s been passed from house to house, no one able to handle him for more than a few months. He wasn’t always this rebellious, this ungrateful. He’d been a normal kid, just one who’d never caught a break. Stiles supposed it was around age eleven when all the defiance started. By then he’d gotten tired of changing who he was every time his new household couldn’t handle his enthusiasm, his spastic nature. So he chose an appearance and manner easy to stick to. The troubled teen that needed an attitude check. That’s Stiles. Now that he was seventeen, the excuse of being a ‘troubled youth’ no longer flied. Now everyone just saw him as a delinquent.

“Well then, Stiles, care to explain why you missed breakfast.” Claudia asked, putting her hands on her hips, and doing her best to look stern. It didn’t suit her.

“Nah, I’m good.” He walked right past her, towards the door. “Don’t wait up, okay? I probably won’t be home for dinner. Later.” Before she could fire a million questions his way, Stiles opened the door and walked out, not even glancing over his shoulder to see her hurt expression. He’d seen it enough, anyway. 

The school was about a mile and a half away, so Stiles’ kinda-boyfriend Jackson Whittemore picked him up in his sleek silver mustang. 

Jackson was only a ‘kinda’ boyfriend for a few reasons. First of all, he had never official asked Stiles out. Second, the guy goes out on dates with like three different people each week. The only reason they stay together, even with the ‘kinda’ in front of it, is that Stiles is always the constant. He may go out with three different people a week, but they’re never the same. Jackson’s always with him when he can be, and that’s good enough for Stiles. 

“Hey babe,” he said, his eyes giving Stiles a once over before he slid on his designer sunglasses. He knew that all Jackson was seeing was a discount sweatshirt and a worn pair of jeans. He’d stopped pestering Stiles about buying new clothes a while ago, but he never could quite get the judgment to leave his eyes.

“Hey.” 

Stiles threw his backpack in the backseat, before leaning over to kiss his cheek. Then Jackson put his hand on his face, and brought Stiles back for another kiss, this one full on the lips.

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” he commented, eyeing Jackson suspiciously. 

“Dad finally unfroze my trust fund.” 

Stiles resisted rolling his eyes. Jackson was privileged, to say the least. He drove new cars and wore the best brands and didn’t settle for anything less than perfect. Other than Stiles, everything in Jackson’s life was top of the line. He supposed he was the guy’s charity case, but that was okay. Stile’s seemed to be everyone’s charity case.

“That’s awesome, babe,” he said, trying to sound sincere. Luckily Jackson didn’t hear the sarcasm over the rush of the wind in their ears as he drove way over the speed limit.

They finally got to school, pulling in one of the last parking places, stealing it right under the nose of a black Camaro. Stiles tried to see through the unfamiliar windshield, but whoever owned the car had sunglasses on, and he was bending backwards to get something from the backseat.

Beacon Hills High, like any high school, was divided. There was the queen bee, Lydia Martin, and her boyfriend Aiden (who, quite frankly, scared the shit out of Stiles, God knows why). Lydia had her entourage of course, like Allison Argent, who was possibly the nicest person Stiles had ever met. There was the outcasts too; people who stayed under the radar. Stiles knew Boyd, Isaac, and Erica, but only barely. They didn’t usually speak to anyone but each other. Stiles suspected there was some weird three way going on, but he couldn’t be sure. Jackson was pretty popular too, in fact, he and Lydia had dated, but two alpha personalities didn’t share power well, and they had a huge falling out. Stiles guessed he was the rebound, but he didn’t mind. Most everyone liked Stiles, or at least tolerated him, but there was this one guy, Matt Daehler. He was on his own level of creepy, and had had his eyes on Jackson well before Stiles even moved to Beacon Hills. His favorite pastime was antagonizing Stiles in the locker room when Jackson wasn’t looking. Not that Jackson would have cared much anyway, he rarely noticed when the guys were giving Stiles a hard time. Luckily, he wasn’t totally alone. Almost as soon as he’d moved here, he’d met Scott McCall. He was the human embodiment of an excited puppy, and he and Stiles had immediately bonded.

“Stiles! Hi Jackson,” he said barely glancing at him before looking back to Stiles. Jackson and Scott always managed to piss each other off in one way or another. 

“Scott,” he grumbled in reluctant greeting, before he squeezed Stiles hand one more time before kissing his cheek, and departing for his locker. 

“What’s up?” He asked his friend, not even trying to repress his smile as Scott bounced up and excitedly. 

“A new student. He’s a senior. Danny said he’s gorgeous. I hear he’s in your history class.”

Stiles was only a junior, but he was in advanced history.

“That would explain the Camaro in the parking lot.” He grinned, “Well, if he’s as gorgeous as Danny says, I wonder how long it will take until Lydia sinks her claws into that.” 

“Apparently he prefers guys.”

“Danny, then. Either way, the poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming.”


	2. Sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, unbeta'd, and i juuuust changed the POV in editing, so let me know if I missed anything! Also, small bit of maaaaaaybe dubcon. A character halfheartedly tells a character to stop, the character says no, but nothing actually happens. also IF YOU ARE HERE FOR STACKSON I AM SORRY THE STACKSON IS A LIE this is a sterek fic tat just happens to start with some stacson. enjoy(:

 

Stiles told himself the only reason he was anxious to see this new student was that _nothing_ exciting ever happened in this stupid town. A new student was like a carnival for BHHS population. Yet when he stepped into history that day, his eyes searched for a new face.

Nothing. As far as he could tell, it was the same people he’d been in class with all semester.

Stiles couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Maybe it was just gossip, to get people’s blood boiling. It _was_ high school after all.

“Happy Monday, kiddies!” The Advanced History teacher, Mr. Lane, barreled into the room with his usual vigor. Sometimes Stiles swear he’s the only good teacher in the world. A little different, to say the least, but the best teacher ever. “Well,” he said, clapping his hands together, “today we are delving into the mid-” there was a quick rap on the door, before a guy around the age of eighteen walked in.

 There was a collective sigh that echoed throughout all of the girls, and even some of the guys, in the class. Stiles held his breath, determined not to be a part of the chorus of sighs. But dear God, was this guy was beautiful. He wasn’t much taller than Stiles, but he was at least three times as broad and Stiles did _not_ blush when the guy raised his hand to mess with his hair, exposing a sliver of skin on his stomach. He might have, however, when the guy’s eyes met his for a brief second before jumping to the next person. He had beautiful eyes, but they were old, like he’d seen too much for someone his age. Stile could write fucking _sonnets_ about his eyes.

He tried desperately not to appear hypnotized by him, as Mr. Lane said, “You must be Derek Hale, pleasure to have you in my class.”

The guy- Derek- nodded at Mr. Lane, “Sorry sir, I took a wrong turn.”

 “Happens to the best of us. There’s a desk in the back next to Matt, if you would please take a seat.” Derek nodded, and went to sit by King Creep.

Matt was all smiles as the new kid sat down next to him, and Derek grimaced. Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off of him, the way he seemed totally unfazed as Matt batted his eyelashes like an idiot.

Suddenly, he turned, and their eyes met. Stiles blushed, which was totally his stupid teenage hormones fault because he had self-control _damn it_. Derek gave him a half smirk, and nodded at him. He smiled weakly back, before looking pointedly down at his book. All he could do was stare though, as Mr. Lane gave his lesson, because his mind couldn’t think about anything but Derek.  

 

“So,” Scott began, slipping in the empty seat next to Stiles during lunch. “Was he as amazing as I’ve heard?” he stared at Stiles with those big puppy dog eyes.

“Who?” Jackson asked, who was just as thrilled with gossip, even though Stiles knew he’d never admit it.

“He’s a new student, a senior, like you, Jackson. His names Derek Hale, I think, and he’s in my history class. Yes, Scott, your information was correct, he _is_ pretty great. Of course, Matt has taken notice to this, and is in the process of sinking his creepy demon claws into him. Look,” he pointed to where Derek and Matt were entering the cafeteria. Jackson and Scott both glanced their way. His best friend’s eyes widened with admiration, while his boyfriend just scoffed.

“Oh wow, Stiles, how are you ever going to keep up your history grade with that guy in there?”

Stiles smiled but didn’t answer, because Jackson had gone ridged, and his angry eyes followed Derek. He took Jackson’s hand under the table, and put his head on his shoulder. He seemed to relax, but he didn’t say a lot for the rest of the lunch period.

 

 

 

After school, Jackson was waiting for Stiles at his locker. This should have been pretty normal, since they _did_ have some semblance of a relationship, but Stiles was still suspicious. Sitting with him at lunch was a victory in itself, seeing as he usually sat with the other senior lacrosse players, but waiting for him after school? That had never happened before.

“So,” he began, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly.

Stiles looked at him briefly, meeting his eyes for a moment, until they both glanced away.

“Yeah?” he asked, stuffing another book into his bag.

 “I’ve been hearing a lot about this Derek guy. Most everyone is talking about how he’s better than all the guys here. Seems like he could get anyone if he wanted to.” He paused, staring at Stiles.

“I guess so,” he mumbled, and slung his bag over his shoulder. Jackson looked at his feet uncomfortably.

“I was just wondering,” He ran his fingers through his hair, fidgeting, “if he could get _you_ , if, if he wanted.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Not all of us need to be dating multiple people at one time, Casanova.”

Jackson sneered, “Fuck you, asshole, I was trying to be sincere.”

Sighing, Stiles wound his arms around his neck, and pressed their lips together.  

Stile hadn’t even said one word to Derek. That stupid warm feeling in his gut was just excitement at not being the new kid anymore. That’s all.

He pushed those thoughts out of his head, and kissed Jackson harder. He put a possessive hand on Stiles’ hip, and when they separated, he whispered, “Good, cause _no one_ becomes between me and my guy. Got it?”

_His guy?_

For some reason, that got Stiles’ blood boiling. He scoffed, and stepped away from Jackson. “Your guy, huh? Jog my memory, who did you have a date with last night? Kris Wright. Who do you have a date with this Friday? Alex Truman. Jackson, I’ll be _yours_ when I’m the _only one_. Got _that_?” He turned around and stomped towards the door. He didn’t look over his shoulder, but he’s sure that if he had, Jackson would be standing there, dumbfounded.

Stiles had at least a mile to go before he was home, before he heard the familiar purr of Jackson’s mustang’s coming up behind him. 

“Come on, Stiles!” he called, slowing to a crawl beside him.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, unfortunately not loud enough for him to hear.

Jackson pulled to the curb and put the car in park. Stiles heard him get out of the car, but refused to look back. He skidded in front of him, blocking his path.

“Listen, I don’t know why you’re freaking out. You’ve never given a fuck about me dating around before! What’s wrong with you?”

“You get all territorial over the _idea_ of me being interested in a guy, but I’m just supposed to look the other way while you’re with others? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? And I’m sick of it, Jackson! I’m not yours, okay?!”

As Stiles tried to make his dramatic exit, Jackson threw him over his shoulder, and carried him to the car.

“Fucker! Put me down!” he shouted, trying to kick free.

His struggling didn’t even seem to faze Jackson.

He dropped him in the passenger seat and said, “Behave please; if you scratch the paint I’ll kill you.”

Stiles crossed his arms and huffed angrily. Jackson just smirked, went to the other side of the car and got in.

“Take me home,” he said, pouting just a little.

“I will,” he said, pulling in to traffic, “later.”

Jackson took Stiles to his uncle’s mechanic shop, which closed at noon on Monday and Wednesday. That’s where a lot of his friends hung out, trying to escape parents. So naturally the door was already unlocked and five or six people were inside.

“Hey Jackson!” shouted Danny, Jackson’s best friend.

He nodded to Danny, took Stiles’ hand, and headed to his uncle’s office, where no one else was allowed. He unlocked it, and the two went inside.

“Now we can talk,” he said, shutting the door behind them.

“I don’t want to talk,” Stiles grumbled, and avoided his eyes. He leaned against the wall, and Jackson put his hands on the wall on either side of him, boxing him in.

“Then what _do_ you want, Stiles? Huh? Cause I’m confused. Do you want me to stop seeing other people?”

Stiles glared at him and replied, “If want to be able to be protective over me with other guys, and tell me who not to date, then yes. I want you to stop seeing other people.”

He nodded and leaned down to kiss him. Stiles didn’t pull away, but he wouldn’t let himself respond the way he usually would have.

“God, fine. I’ll stop,” He said, and Stiles raised his eyebrows. Jackson just rolled his eyes and kissed him again. Stiles pushed against his shoulder lightly.

“Stop,” he muttered, leaning into him instead.

“No,” he chuckled, wrapping one arm tightly around his waist, and used his other hand to bring Stiles’ face closer to his. “Your mine now, baby.”

 

 

 

Jackson got Stiles home around eleven, and Claudia was not toohappy about it.

“Where is your cell phone?” she asked angrily, hands on her hips.

“Out of battery, under my bed.” Stiles said as he blew past her and headed for the stairs.

“Genim! Why do you do this to John and me? We take you in, feed you, clothe you, and give you any crazy, ridiculous thing you ask for! For what? All you do is abuse our trust. We are supposed to be taking care of you! It would be best for all of us if you grow up and act mature for once.”

Stiles froze, and turned slowly, “Why? So I can become a model son? So I can start to care about something, just to have it ripped away? Cause that’s what happens when I get used to a new home. I change myself to fit around the people who take me in, and then I’m shipped off to another house! I _hate_ this! I don’t want to be here! I’d rather just be on my own, because then I wouldn’t feel like I had to please anyone. Why should I have to change myself since you and John are probably going to send me away soon anyway?”

Claudia’s jaw tightened, and her eyes got glassy and wet. “Go to bed,” she said, her voice hoarse, and she turned and walked away from him.

Stiles fought back the lump in his throat, and went to his room.

 

 

Jackson picked him up again the next morning. “Morning,” he mumbled, not even looking at Stiles as he thumbed through his CDs.

Stiles just huffed and got in the car.

“What’s wrong?” he sounded bored. Stiles almost didn’t tell him, but decided that if they were truly going to give this monogamy thing a go, he should probably start trusting Jackson with personal stuff.

 “Claudia is being impossible. She acts like she can solve all of our problems with a stern face and her ‘mom voice’. God, it’s like when I talk, she doesn’t even-”

Jackson put his arm around him and pulled him close, cutting him off. “I’ll make it better” he whispered, before his lips moved to Stiles’ neck. At that moment, a black Camaro drove by. Maybe it was just Stiles’ imagination, but the car seemed to slow down when it passed. Feeling self-conscious, he pushed Jackson away.

“Whatever,” he muttered, shrugging off the blow to his ego.

Stiles’ eyes followed the Camaro, knowing that it was Derek.

 

 

“So you two are like, a real couple now?” Scott asked, leaning against the locker next to Stiles’.

He shrugged and closed his locker, “I guess so.”

 “Well, maybe-”

“Excuse me?”

Stiles recognized Derek’s voice immediately. Both of their heads snapped forward, and there he was, in all his glory.

“Uh, hi. Derek right?” Stiles asked, feigning indifference.

Derek wasn’t buying it. Chuckling, he said, “Yeah. And you’re Stiles? You’re in my history class?”

He nodded. _Holy fuck_ he knew his name! That shouldn’t give Stiles butterflies. That should not give a guy with a steady boyfriend butterflies. He finally had what he wanted. An _actual_ boyfriend.

 “So,” Stiles said awkwardly, “what can I do for you?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, “That’s my locker.” He pointed to the locker that Scott and Stiles were leaning on.

“Oh, geeze, sorry,” he said, feeling like an idiot. They moved, and he stepped forward to open his locker.

Scott started to whisper excitedly. Stiles shushed him; they were still only a few feet away.

“Oh, and Stiles,” Derek called, and his intense, brooding eyes met Stiles’ wide ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ stare, “I’m not too good with history, and I hear you’re amazing. Maybe we could get together sometime, and you could help me.”

Stiles just nodded dumbly, too stunned to say anything.

Derek grinned, “Cool, see you later Stiles, Scott.” He nodded at both of them, and walked off.

They watched him go, before Scott said, “We need to discuss this,” and he pulled Stiles in the opposite direction.

“What just _happened_?” Stiles wondered aloud, still marveling over Derek.

“That’s what we need to talk about,” he said, turning to face his friend, “Okay, I was one hundred percent certain that Danny would be dating that guy in no time. I would have bet money on it. But after those sparks I just saw-”

“What sparks?” He asked, alarmed.

 Scott scoffed, “Whatever, dude! I was about to have a heat stroke. He was staring at you like you were the last guy he was _ever_ going to see.”

Stiles totally did _not_ blush, “Really?”

“Yes, but here’s the problem. You’ve _finally_ gotten Jackson to commit. That is _huge!_ What are you going to do?” he asked.

The sad part was that he hesitated.

But, fuck, Derek was hot, mysterious, and anyone would be fucking _thrilled_ to date him. He was an adventure, and one Stiles was dying to take. Just his voice sent butterflies to his stomach, which was dumb and made Stiles feel all tingly but God damn it, he _liked_ that feeling.

And then there was Jackson. Scott was right; getting that guy to commit was big. Did Stiles love him? He couldn’t tell. But he’d put so much into it, and he owed it to Jackson to at least try.

“I’m with Jackson, of course,” he said, sounding sure of himself, but he knew that he was lying through his teeth. 


	3. Love and Cars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same drill, unbeta'd, let me know if my POV gets wuzzy.

History came devastatingly slow. Finally, Stiles entered the classroom, and he couldn’t help but search for Derek’s face. He found him right away… sitting in the previously empty desk next to Stiles’. Heat rushed to his face, and he looked at his feet and moved towards his desk.

“Hey Derek,” he said, taking his seat.

“Hi,” he said, a small smile on his face. His stubble was much too impressive for someone in high school, and Stiles imagined what that stubble would feel like on his skin for a split second before he remembered he had a boyfriend.

“Uh, seat change?” he asked, ducking his head.

Derek chuckled, “Yeah, Matt’s… something else.”

Stiles laughed, “You have _no_ idea.”

He smiled, but Mr. Lane walked into the room before he could reply, and began his lesson.

Lunch was right after history. Stiles had told Jackson that he would stop by his locker, and they could head to lunch together, but as he left the classroom, Derek tagged along.

“So, you been here all your life?” Derek asked, slowing his pace to match Stiles.

“No, I’m from San Francisco. I moved here about three months ago.”

He nodded, and asked, “So you live with your mom and dad?”

Stiles glanced at him briefly before looking at his feet, “Um, no. I have foster parents, Claudia and John. How about you?”

“We moved down here about a week ago.”

They were getting close to Jackson’s locker, and Stiles didn’t want to see his face when he saw Derek. “So, see you later,” he said, trying to subtly tell him to go away.

Derek smirked, catching the hint- and ignoring it- and said, “Nah, I think I’ll hang around. You don’t mind if I eat lunch with you, right?” He looked at me, his eyes taking on a puppy-like quality Stiles hadn’t thought anyone but Scott was capable of.

How could anyone say no to those eyes?

Stiles sighed and muttered, “No, _I_ don’t mind. Hey Jackson,” he said as we approached his locker.

“Hey babe,” Jackson mumbled, still digging in his locker.

“You don’t mind if Derek joins us for lunch, do you?” he asked, biting his lip as his boyfriend slowly raised his head. He wasn’t sure what was more obvious, the shock on his face, or the anger in his eyes. He looked at Derek, then back at Stiles. He pleaded with him silently, and hoped Jackson was good at reading faces.

“ Of course not; I’ll meet you guys in there. Go on ahead.” He turned back to his locker.

Stiles shrugged at Derek, and they headed to the cafeteria.

“So do you have to ask his permission for everything?” Derek asked as they sat down at Stiles’ usual table. They were the first ones there.

Stiles laughed, and shook his head, “No, no, no. He’s just… over-protective.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, “That’s obvious. Is there any particular reason why he hates me?” when all Stiles did was shrug, he pressed on, “Am I invading his territory? Stealing his guy?”

He shook his head fiercely at this, and avoiding looking at Derek. “I’m sure that’s not it,” he mumbled.

“We’ll see,” he said, staring intently at Stiles. Well, fuck if _that_ didn’t send a shiver down his spine, and in the best way, too.

 

 

Derek was hilarious in a really subtle way. He found wit in anything, and his sarcasm _almost_ matched Stiles’. That might have explained why neither of them realized that they were still alone by the end of lunch.

“I wonder where Jackson went. I think Scott had an appointment...” he said, even though he knew all too well that Jackson was ticked, and avoiding him.

Derek hummed thoughtfully before glimpsing at the clock. “Hey, I wanted to be early for my next class, so I’ll catch you later,” he winked at him, and then left the lunch room.

Stiles was alone until the bell rang.

_What the fuck have I done?_

He never should have told Derek he could eat with them. Fuck, he probably screwed up everything with Jackson. He would have to wait until after school to talk to him though, so Stiles prepared for an afternoon of worrying out of his mind.

 

Stiles waited by Jackson’s locker after school. When he didn’t show up, Stiles couldn’t believe he was _that_ mad at him. When he went out to the parking lot to search for his car there was nothing.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

“You okay?” Derek’s voice came from behind him.

Stiles jumped, surprised, and spun around, “Geeze, give me a heart attack why don’t you.”

He chuckled. “Need a ride?”

Stiles exhaled angrily, “I guess I do.” His eyes searched the parking lot once more before he looked back at Derek, “Thanks.”

He just stood there, looking at Stiles intently for a moment, before signaling him to follow, and headed towards his Camaro.

“Nice car,” _a sex car,_ he thought as he buckled his seatbelt.

Derek nodded, visibly proud of it. “Thanks,” he paused, looking at Stiles with those intense eyes, before he continued, “Why do you want people to call you Stiles?”

Stiles gaped at him for a second, before he found his voice again, “B-because that’s my name.”

“Just because I’m the new kid, doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless,” he said, smirking.

Coughing uncomfortably, he ran his fingers through his hair, “Uh, reasons? Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Sure,” he said, letting it go immediately, “you can start out by telling me where you live?”

Stiles opened his mouth to tell him the Stilinski’s address, but stopped, “Well, you can drop me off at Jackson’s uncle’s garage. Take a left down Main, and then go straight until you hit Berkley, then take a right. It’ll be right there.” He nodded, and peeled out of the parking lot.

“So you come here a lot?” Derek asked as he pulled into an empty parking space.

Stiles just shrugged, and reached for the seatbelt buckle. “Thanks for the ride,” he mumbled as he struggled to unbuckle.

Derek chuckled softly, and leaned over to help. Stiles’ stomach jumped, and he tried to sink far back into the seat, so they wouldn’t touch. He immediately got it unfastened, and sat up again. Stiles didn’t trust himself to speak, fearing that butterflies would fly out of his mouth if he did.

“You want me to wait?”

He shook his head, “No, Jackson will give me a ride.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, and put the car in park. “I’ll wait.”

Stiles sighed, but didn’t protest. With Jackson’s temper, he very well may need a ride.

He knew Jackson wasn’t working, he would never lower himself to manual labor. But the only person in the garage was his uncle.

“Hey Mr. Whittemore, Jackson here?” he asked.

“Hey there, Stiles. Yeah, he’s in the back office doing filing, go on back.”

Stiles nodded to him, and headed to the office. He saw him through the window on the door, bent over by the desk, retrieving paper from one of the bins. He rapped on the door, and Jackson’s head snapped up.

“Hey,” Stiles said, crossing his arms and stepping into the room.

Jackson sighed, and hung his head, “Hi Stiles,” he ran his fingers through the hair on the back of his head, and moved so he was leaning on the front of the desk.

“Were we maybe gonna talk about why you’re acting like an asshole?” Stiles asked, taking another step forward.

He exhaled loudly, “I’m sorry for ditching you at lunch, and for leaving without giving you a ride. But if you don’t know why I’m mad, then I think you have some apologizing to do.”

He rolled his eyes, “If this is about Derek, then-”

“Hell yes this is about him!” he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air. “I don’t get you Stiles! You say you want a serious relationship, and then you start hanging out with this other guy. The same fucking guy I admitted to you that I was worried about! God damn, Stiles. Make up your mind.” He looked away from Stiles, clearly hurting.

“Jackson, Derek is nothing to me,” _liar_ , “and I swear there’s nothing going on. Please don’t be mad, I’m sorry.” Truthfully, Stiles couldn’t fathom why _he_ was apologizing. He let it go though, and waited for Jackson’s reply.

He sighed, and closed the distance between them to embrace Stiles, “Love you,” he said into Stiles’ neck.

“I love you too,” he mumbled, a little shocked.

“I told mom I’d stay with my uncle till nine, but I’m sure I can drive you home.”

Stiles grimaced, thinking about Derek waiting outside, “Uh, no, that’s fine. I feel like walking.”

Jackson shrugged, kissed him, and then Stiles left.

Derek was there, waiting for him. He hopped in the car, and after he gave him directions to Claudia and John’s house, Derek pulled onto the street.

“Everything work out okay?” he asked, looking intensely at the road.

“Sure, Jackson and I are fine, if that’s what you mean.”

“What if that’s not what I meant?” he paused, and looked at Stiles, “Are _you_ okay?”

He tried very hard not to look at Derek as he answered, “I’m c-confused. But yeah, I’m okay.”

He smiled and mumbled, “Sure, sure.”

And Stiles knew that Derek could see right through him.


	4. Green Eyes and Half Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same drill, lemme know if there are any mistakes! Thanks for reading I honestly love you guys so much:D

 

“Thanks again,” Stiles said, getting out of the car in front of the house.

“No problem, you need a ride to school tomorrow? I come by this way anyway.”

“That’s okay, Jackson will pick me up. See you in history.”

“Bye,” he said, and Stiles shut the car door, waved one more time, and headed up the driveway to the porch. He was home at a respectable time tonight, so there was no way was he was going to take any crap from Claudia. To his surprise it was John who was waiting for him this time..

Stiles really liked John, despite trying his best to not feel anything towards him at all. “Hey John,” he said, trying to side step him to get to his room. He grabbed Stiles’ arm though, and forced him to face him.

“Wait a minute, buddy, we need to talk.” He took Stiles in to the living room. They both sat down, and Stiles _knew_ what was coming.

“Genim,”

“Stiles,” he corrected, crossing his arms. No matter how much he liked John, if he was going to play disciplinary parent, then Stiles was going to play the ungrateful teenager. Which he was, he supposed.

“Stiles, we need to talk about your behavior lately. Now, Claudia and I feel like we have been very good to you, but all you seem to do is fight us. We’re not sure what to do anymore. We’ve talked at you for hours, but it never makes any difference. So now we’re going to start to buckle down.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“So now, to make my point, your phone is mine until you can act responsible. Your curfew is now nine, instead of ten, and we need to talk about this Jackson boy you’ve been seeing. I think he’s a bad influence on you.”

 “Whatever, I’m tired, night,” he stood and walked upstairs to his bedroom, not even glancing back.

 

 

“It’s stupid,” Stiles said into his phone, laying back on his bed on Friday afternoon. It had been a few weeks since the fight with Jackson. Derek and Stiles were still getting close though, he just tried very hard to hide it from Jackson. They would meet in the library, and Stiles would help him with history, and they would joke around until I got a call from John or Claudia, telling him to come home. He was a really awesome guy, but Stiles still felt a little guilty when he would blow off Jackson to study with Derek. It was okay, though, because Jackson had been busy a lot lately, as well. Still, Stiles couldn’t help but feel like he was betraying him. He told himself it was just because he needed the extra study time, but he knew it was because he wanted to spend time with Derek. For no other reason, of course, that he was a good friend. Well, that’s what Stiles told himself, anyways.

“I mean, how many times are they going to take away my phone before they realize that I’m going to find it?”

Scott’s voice came from the other end, _“Where’d they hide it this time?”_

“Same place as always, in their dresser, third drawer down.”

_“Typical, th-”_

Stiles’ phone beeped and he drew it back to look at the screen. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but had his area code, “Hold up Scott, I got another call.” He switched to the other line. “Hello?”

_“Uh, Stiles? This is Derek.”_

He nearly dropped the phone, “Hey, Derek, whats up?”

_“Completely and totally failing at history homework. Any chance you could come over and help me out?”_

What was that thing you’re supposed to do when oxygen can’t get to your brain? Oh right, breathe Stiles, breathe. “Sure, when?”

He was quiet for a minute, _“How about... tomorrow around seven. I have plans tonight.”_  

_What plans?_ He was nearly dying with curiosity, but he bit his tongue. “Sure, that’ll work. Where do you live?”

_“From your house? Get on Third Street, and follow it till you hit the forest roads, and it’s the only house at the very end of Timber Ridge. Got it?”_

“Yup. See you then.”

_“Okay, later.”_ And he hung up.

Stiles switched back to Scott, “Oh my God,”

_“What? Who was it?”_ Scott asked excitedly.

“Derek. I’m going over to his house tomorrow to help him with history.”

_“What?! That’s- how’d he even get your number?”_

“I don’t know, I never got around to asking. Should I have said I was busy?”

_“No, but dude, trust me, that guy’s got a lot more than history on his mind.”_

That’s what Stiles was afraid of. _And hoping for, damn it._

 

 

Later that night, Stiles was with Scott, Jackson, and some other people from school, hanging out at the auto shop. He and Jackson were off to the side, sitting on a ratty love seat pressed up against the far wall.

“Movies tomorrow?” he asked, running his fingers up and down Stiles’ arm.

“Actually, I’m helping someone with homework tomorrow. They’re having some trouble.”

He shrugged, “Blow ‘em off.”

“Well, I already promised I would, but I could come over afterwards.”

Jackson just rolled his eyes, and relaxed deeper into the loveseat, “Who you helping?” He asked, closing his eyes and stretching.

Stiles bit his lip; he needed to tread carefully here, “Just someone from history.”

Jackson’s eyes flew open, “History? It isn’t Derek is it?”

His silence was apparently enough of a reply.

“Damn it, Stiles!” he shouted, jumped to his feet, and walked out the back door.

Everyone got silent after Jackson’s outburst. Danny looked at Stiles with narrowed, accusing eyes. Lydia looked mildly amused, and Aiden just looked stupidly pleased about the whole thing. Exhaling noisily, Stiles buried his face in his hands. He got up though, to follow his boyfriend and try to make things right.

Before opening the door, he looked to Scott where he was leaning up against the wall next to Allison, “If I’m not back in ten minutes, call the police, because he’s probably murdered me.”

He nodded, probably believed he was being serious, and Stiles pushed the door open.

Jackson was leaning against the back of the building, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He didn’t acknowledge that he had heard the door, but Stiles knew he must have.

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know the magical combonation of words that would ease the tension from Jackson’s jaw. So he moved closer, and put his hands around his waist, with his head resting in the crook of Jackson’s neck.

He sighed, but didn’t move at all, “What?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Stiles mumbled against his skin, not looking up.

He scoffed, but Stiles continued anyway, “What do you want me to say? He needs help with history. I’m not going to apologize for that.” He raised his head to gauge Jackson’s response.

He avoided Stiles’ eyes as he said, “Trust me; he’s not interested in homework.”

Despite that that was exactly what Scott had said, he rolled his eyes, “Jackson, even if that’s true, don’t you trust me? I would _never_ cheat on you.”

The door creaked open, and Scott’s head popped out, “Just thought I’d let you guys know they the gang’s going to a movie. Come if you want to... when you’re done talking, or whatever.”

“Thanks Scott,” he gave Stiles a pitiful half grin, and then retreated back inside. He looked back to Jackson. When he didn’t say anything, Stiles pushed, “Well, do you trust me?”

Jackson just rolled his head back and groaned, “How about we skip this part, and you just never talk to him again.”

“I am not going to limit who I talk to because you’re jealous!”

“I am _not_ jealous!”

Stiles scoffed, “You keep telling yourself that, Jackson. _Please_ stop flipping out over this. It’s stupid.”

Jackson clenched his fist and looked away, “Stiles, I can’t help that every time I see you with him something doesn’t feel right. You two just... just... seem so damn comfortable around each other and it drives me insane! You can’t have both, Stiles. Choose.”

“I don’t want Derek,” _liar_ , “I’m with you, Jackson. But I’m not going to stop being his friend.”

Jackson looked down, mumbled, “Maybe you better go,” and shuffled back into the shop.

He was already halfway to his car when Stiles caught up to him, “Jackson, this is ridiculous. I’m going over to Derek’s tomorrow to help him with history. Nothing is going to happen. When you decide to believe me, call me.” But Jackson didn’t even look at him before driving away.

 

 

Jackson never called that night. Or the next day. As Stiles put his history book in his bag to head over to Derek’s, he glanced at his phone for the thousandth time. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead and collapsed onto his bed. Jackson was being impossible. Stiles had already broke down and called him twice but there was nothing. The second time, the call had disconnected after the first two rings. He’d been avoiding Stiles at school, and God damn it what was he supposed to do? It went against every bone in his stubborn body to just submit and give Jackson what he wants. But a stupid, hopeful part of him wanted to cling desperately to Derek.

“So I’ll drop you off, but do you think you could get a ride home?” John’s voice came from the other room, “Claudia and I are headed down to her mother’s. She needs some help moving, so we’re staying the night.”

Stiles gave his phone one last longing look before deciding just to leave it. “Yeah, John, thanks. I’ll be in the car,” he called out as he headed down the stairs, his bag slung over his shoulder.

John was out in a few minutes, and they set off. Stiles recited the directions Derek gave to him, and watched his foster father’s jaw drop.

 “Wow. That’s a huge house.”

“You’ve seen it?”

 “Yeah, there was an, uh, an incident. The station got a call.”

Curiosity flared, but Stiles knew better than to question John about his work. He’d just go through his files at home next time he had a chance. So he just nodded, and leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes.

“I hope the sky clears up,” John commented, with a weak attempt to reel him back into conversation, “Looks like a nasty storm is coming.”

Stiles gave him a less than interested grunt, and John sighed.

A few minutes later, they were pulling into a long winding driveway.

“Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath, earning him sharp warning from John about language.

But holy _fuck_ the house was something else. It was probably nice in its younger years, but now looked a little worse for wear. There was fresh paint decorating half the exterior, and electric blue tarps over what Stiles assumed were some pretty gnarly holes in the roof. It was probably three or four levels, not counting if there’s a basement. It was huge, and eerily beautiful.

“Thanks for the ride,” he muttered as he grabbed his bag.

“No problem, and Stiles,” he stopped in the middle of climbing out of the car, and looked over his shoulder back at John.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe, when Claudia and I get back, we could go out to dinner. All three of us. Just to talk, and to, uh, to,”

“Sure, John, that’d be… that’d be nice,” Stiles didn’t want to analyze the smile that crept onto his face as he got out of the car, and waved to John as he drove away. He just shrugged it off, and climbed up the porch steps to knock on the door.

Derek opened it just a few seconds later.

 “Hey,” he said with a lazy smile that was created solely for the purpose of making people swoon.

“Hello. Man, who says ‘hello’ anymore? Geeze, I meant hey, or hi, or oh my _God_ , just _please_ say something to shut me up.”

Luckily Derek must think being socially inept was cute or some shit, because he just chuckled and opened the door wider, “Come in.” 


	5. Tell Me What to Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya'll are cuties and I just wanna smoosh your faces and boop your noses but alas I cannot so here is an somewhat angsty chapter instead. love youu<3

The place was definitely nicer on the inside. A huge staircase dominated the foyer, but Derek pulled him off to the left, into a scarcely furnished living room.

“Sorry about the house, we’re redoing everything,” Derek said, sitting down on the couch and motioning for Stiles to follow him.

“It’s nice. Big.”

“Yeah, it gets a bit lonely, since it’s just my uncle and I,” his eyes got dark and heavy again, and he looked old for a moment, way older than eighteen. In a split second the look was gone, though, before Stiles could even think to question it.

Stiles did have one question though, and coming from a sensitive parental situation himself, he hesitated before saying, “What happened to your parents?”

Derek exhaled and sunk deeper into couch, “They died. A few months ago.” He seemed relatively unmoved, but his eyes displayed emotion after emotion.

“That sucks, man,” Stiles mumbled.

They were quiet for a beat before a soft smile spread across Derek’s face.

“Thanks,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For not saying ‘sorry’.”

Stiles just grinned at him, and their eyes met for a heated moment.

Derek coughed and broke the stare, as he leaned forward to pull a book out of his bag, “Now come on, I’m going to fail this paper if I don’t get help.”

 

Derek was a smart guy, like, _really_ smart. For Mr. Lane’s class though, he needed to be able to relate the lessons to completely random things. He would have his students explain how “Sherman’s March to the Sea” was like a peanut. Derek just wasn’t used to how Mr. Lane worked. Stiles, however, knew the guy’s whacky methods like the back of his hand.

“His way of teaching takes some getting used to,” Stiles said, laughing as Derek rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“What does the Punic Wars have to do with a football game?”

“You need to _find_ what they have in common. He likes to make you work your mind in weird ways.” Stiles had been proof-reading Derek’s paper, not really looking at him. But when his eyes rose and their stares locked again, Stiles couldn’t look away. What colors were his eyes, _anyway_? Some kind of transparent hazel that should be illegal thank you very much. Derek opened his mouth to say something,and fuck if Stiles wasn’t on the metaphorical edge of his seat in anticipation, but a crack of thunder nearly shook the house, and they both startled. Stiles jumped, literally, three inches into the air with limbs flailing. Whatever trance he’d been under a second ago was gone.

Lightening soon followed, and the lights flickered.

“Crap,” Stiles muttered, and Derek quirked an eyebrow, “I needed a ride home, but I wanted to go before the storm hit.”

He peeked out the window, to survey the storm, “Yeah, it’s pretty rough out there. You can stay for a little bit, until it lightens up.”

Stiles just nodded. It was silent for a minute, before he finally worked up the courage to ask, “W-were you about to say something, when we heard the thunder?”

Derek laughed once, nervous, “Um, yeah. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“No, its fine, I want to know.”

He sighed, long and heavy. Rubbing a hand over his face he muttered, “Okay, but you’re not gonna like it.”

Stiles absolutely did not stop breathing as he waited for Derek to continue.

He glanced over at Stiles briefly, but then he just sat farther back in the couch, and rubbed his forehead, “Maybe I should take you home now.”

Before Stiles could protest, Derek had gathered all his books and stuffed them back into his bag. He offered him a hand to help him up, his expression distracted and distant.

Stiles stared at him for a moment with his eyebrows raised. Did he actually think Stiles was going to let that fly? But he took his outstretched hand anyway, and rose to his feet, “Thanks, I guess.”

Derek kept his eyes on Stiles as he slipped the strap of his bag over his shoulder, his hand lingering for just a moment before pulling away.

Derek led him out a side door, where his Camaro was parked next to an old shed. There was a dead patch of grass a few feet away.

“My uncle’s at work,” He said in explanation, nodding to the grass, as he walked over to the passenger side to open the door for Stiles.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and got in. He heard Derek sigh before he shut the door, and walked around to the driver’s side. He slid in, and started the car. Without a word, they were backing out, and were on their way to Stiles’ house.

 They were both painfully silent almost the whole trip. But when Derek turned on to his street, Stiles knew he was losing his chance to ask him about it again, “Derek, I-”

“Stiles, please. Just drop it.”

“Ya know, that is really fucking annoying? You can’t just start to tell me something and then change your damn mind. It doesn’t work like that.”

Derek sort of grunted as he put the car in park in the driveway, “Yeah, I can. I-I,” he paused, and closed his eyes tight for a moment, “I’ll tell you when you’re ready to hear it.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, the thunder outside rumbling in agreement with his anger.

“And who decides when I’m ready? You? Bullshit,” he said, and tried to unbuckle. But, just like before, it jammed, and he couldn’t get it. “Wow, this is seriously ruining my dramatic exit,” he muttered bitterly, and despite everything, Derek chuckled.

Taking his sweet time, he leaned over to help. His hand brushed against Stiles’, and their eyes met.

And as fucking cliché as it sounds, time seemed to stop. Even the thunder, which hadn’t shut up in at least five minutes, quieted.

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, as his hand just barely grazed Stiles’ jaw.

His breathing hitched like this was some damned romance movie, and he willed himself to say something. He’d never been able to keep quiet in his life, but Derek had somehow turn off his voice. And- oh my God, he was leaning in.

Derek Hale was going to kiss him.

This was fucking happening.

Jackson would shit a-

Oh God, Jackson.

Stiles leaned away, but Derek’s mouth was still distractingly close.

“I-I can’t, Derek, Jackson-”

He dropped his hand, cast his eyes downward, and shifted back into his seat, “Yeah, of course. Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Der-”

“Don’t be, please. I just lost my head. Won’t happen again. G’night Stiles.”

Derek’s eyes were fixed stubbornly on the steering wheel, his jaw locked.

“Night, Derek.”

He’d barely shut the door before the car was backing out of the driveway and flying down the road.

Stiles watched as the taillights disappeared around the corner, before cursing and going inside.

He collapsed on his bed with a groan, and buried his face in his pillow, damning his stupid commitment to monogamy. His phone beeped, pulling him out of his puddle of self-loathing. Three texts from Jackson filled the screen.

_you rfuse to comprmise so theres nthing to tlk abt_

_stp calling me_

_fine if you want to tlk to fcking much i’ll be @ the shop tmrrw at 1_

With a weary sigh, Stiles texted him that he’d be at the shop tomorrow so they could talk. Because after tonight they sure had a shit ton they needed to work through.

 

Stiles decided to get there early. It was a long walk, but worth it if it helped clear his head. He knew he’d have at least an hour before they were supposed to meet, but at the very least, he could practice what he was going to say before Jackson showed up.

Stiles knew where the spare key was hidden, but when he put his hand on the handle, it was already unlocked. He opened it slowly; a few months living with a sheriff would make anyone cautious. All the lights were off, and no one seemed to be inside. Maybe Jackson’s uncle just forgot to lock up?

Stiles headed to the back office despite the tingly sensation in his chest telling him he should leave. He pushed open the door, took a few steps inside and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

Jackson was wrapped around some strawberry blonde, his hands roaming fucking _everywhere_ and his tongue down her throat.

They were too busy sucking the air from each other’s lungs to notice Stiles at first, but after the first few horror filled seconds, he couldn’t help the _‘mother fucker’_ that slipped out.

Jackson jerked his head up, his eyes round and his lips red and swollen. “Stiles, shit,” he stuttered, wiping his mouth as he pushed the girl away, who Stiles could now see was none other than Lydia Martin.

He wished he could feel betrayed but he just felt cold. Lydia had the decency to look even a guilty as she smoothed the wrinkles on her dress made by the shameless dry humping that had just been occurring.

“Stiles, I swear to God-”

“Whittemore, if you fucking say ‘it’s not what it looks like’ I’m going to cut your balls off.”

His mouth snapped shut but he still moved towards Stiles, one arm extended.

“Please, babe, I can explain, just let me explain.”

Stiles noted sincere panic in his eyes, but he wasn’t in the mood to spare feelings, “Fuck off.”

He pushed Jackson away when he tried to grasp his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around his middle.

“Tell me what to do, Stiles, just t-tell me what to do,” Jackson was pale, but that made the hickeys on his neck and chest stand out even more and Stiles just couldn’t look anywhere else but at the angry red marks.

“Just,” he raked a hand through his hair, breathing deeply, “fuck, just leave me alone for a while,” and without another backwards glance, Stiles walked out of the shop, and all the way back home.


	6. Stars (part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's short guys, but I wasn't sure if I would be able to finish it tonight but I wanted you guys to have something, so here it is! I'll try and finish it tonight though.

Stiles wasn’t going to cry. He would _not_ let himself cry over Jackson fucking Whittemore. But the wind stung against the tear tracks on his face as he walked home, hands stuffed deep into his pockets and head bowed.

He’d wanted to try and make it work, damn it. God, he wasn’t even angry, his chest just felt hollow. He couldn’t even muster up any rage that Jackson had broken his promise, because promises mean shit, and no one knew that better than Stiles. He’d been stupid. Stupid enough to believe that he could be enough for a guy like Jackson. Stiles had never been enough for anybody.

The house was too quiet when he got back. Too empty. He pulled out his phone, and texted Scott, barely able to see the screen through his blurry eyes. He kept it vague, and just asked Scott what he was doing. Only a few seconds later, the phone lit up with his reply.

_Im with allison she agreed to go out w me!_

Stiles managed a watery grin for his friend, before deciding to try Derek. The phone rang and rang but eventually beeped to his answering machine.

“Fuck,” he wiped at his eyes furiously. Instinctively, he dialed another number, not really even grasping _who_ he was calling until the ringing stopped as they picked up.

 _“Genim? Is there something wrong?”_ Claudia’s voice was tense and worried, and Stiles belatedly realized he had never willing called his foster parents before.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s f-fine, it’s fine,” he wiped his nose, and tried to steady his shaking voice.

_“Okay… did you need something, sweetheart?”_

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, “No, I was just wondering when you guys will be home?”

 _“Sunday night at the latest,”_ she paused, _“Genim, are you sure everything is okay?”_

Her voice was soft and concerned and so damn sincere that it formed another lump in Stiles’ throat. He fought it down as he said, “I’m sure. Just wanted to check in, I guess. I-I’ll see you guys tomorrow night then.”

_“Yeah, we’ll see you then. Call us if you need anything, okay?”_

“Okay, bye.”

For some reason, after he’d hung up the phone, Stiles didn’t feel the need to cry anymore.

 

 

The rest of Saturday and Sunday were uneventful. Stiles rewatched the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and ordered lots of pizza. Claudia and John got home around seven Sunday night, and the trio exchanged awkward hellos, said goodnight, and no one brought up the tearful phone call. Stiles was glad.

Jackson didn’t try and pick him up from school on Monday, thank God. John drove him instead, mercifully leaving the subject of Stiles’ absent boyfriend untouched.

They pulled up to the school and Stiles sat still for the obligatory one-armed-over-the-console hug before getting out.

Stiles knew that he would see Jackson sometime today. He still hadn’t decided what he was going to say to him. ‘Hey asshole, I can’t forgive you for cheating even though I almost made out with the very same guy you were freaking out about’ didn’t seem appropriate.

Derek was leaning against his locker when Stiles got to his. He couldn’t help the stupid, happy grin that spread across his face. Way to play it cool, idiot. He tried to hide it by biting his bottom lip, but Stiles knew that he wasn’t fooling anybody.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” he looked wary, but happy, and then Stiles remembered they hadn’t exactly parted on the clearest of terms. “Is everything… okay?”

Stiles shrugged, “ _We’re_ okay, if that’s what you mean.”

Derek’s mouth quirked, “What if that’s not what I mean?”

“Well then?”

“I saw you called me. I was busy so I couldn’t call you back,” he said, changing the subject.

“Busy doing what?”

“Pouting,” he admitted as he flashed a too harsh smile.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry about it.”

Derek moved closer, leaning against the very edge of his locker, his body frustratingly close to brushing up against Stiles’ side.

“No, what did you want?”

He sighed, contemplated lying, but then said, “I was having a bad day. I saw Jackson… shit, I saw him with some girl.”

“Were they…?”

“Basically.”

Nobody said anything as Stiles dialed is combination and put books in his locker. Finally, Derek rest a warm hand on Stiles’ back, his thumb brushing against the nape of his neck.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t call you back, Stiles.”

“It’s fine, really. Besides, it wouldn’t have been very fun for you to have to sit and listen to me bitch about my boyfriend.”

Derek’s eyes were serious as they burned into Stiles’, “Doesn’t matter, I still would have done it. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’d do pretty much anything for you.”

Stiles blushed, but it was a manly blush so he shrugged off the embarrassment.

 “Have you talked to him yet?”

“I haven’t seen him since. I stormed out and all the drama.”

“Excuse me?” Jackson’s voice came from behind us.

Derek’s hand dropped from his neck and Stiles spun around so fast he nearly fell backwards into his locker.

Jackson’s eyes moved from Stiles to Derek, and back, and he looked _extremely_ pissed off. And fuck the guilt that was creeping up Stiles’ spine because he didn’t even fucking _do_ anything.

“You mind?” He glared at Derek.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” he said, returning Jackson’s hateful look.

 “Derek,” Stiles muttered, and gave him a heavy look. He nodded to him, and then walked away, but not before casting another livid stare Jackson’s way.

 “What the hell was that?” he half-shouted, pointing in the direction Derek had left, and taking an angry step towards Stiles.

“Calm down.”

“Only if you tell me what’s going on between you two.”

“Don’t act like you have any right to be pissed, asshole,” he seethed, shoving at Jackson’s shoulder, “If anyone should be acting righteous it’s me.”

“I said it was a _mistake_ , what else do you want?”

“Well, I’d really love it if you’d just _fuck off_.”

 “Are you dumping me?” his eyes narrowed.

“Jackson,” Stiles sighed, but Jackson went off again.

 “Oh this is rich, _you’re_ dumping _me_? Ha!”

“Jackson, stop it,” he cautioned, and tried to keep his voice steady.

“No, no, I’m _no_ where near through,” he put his hands on either side of Stiles’ head, boxing him in, “Are you and Derek already together?”

“Some of us have integrity, Jackson.”

He slammed his palm against the lockers, and Stiles flinched, “What, you haven’t let him fuck you yet? He doesn’t know how needy and whiny you are yet? Or is he just not man enough to-”

“Is there a problem, kids?” our vice principal’s voice came from behind us, cutting of Jackson’s rage.

“No sir,” he said, looking hard at Stiles with the promise of more before walking away, leaving a shaking, panting Stiles leaning against his locker.

He sank to the ground with a groan, and buried his face in his hands.

 

He nodded to Derek before history, but didn’t say anything. Derek must have understood because he didn’t press him for any information. Instead he stared at Stiles with a furrowed brow, his eyes heavy with concern.

Scott was understanding as well, having heard about Jackson over the weekend. He gave his friend a reassuring clasp on the shoulder, and then promptly changed the subject when he saw Stiles at lunch.

Stiles was grateful.

He didn’t see Jackson in the hallways, but he _did_ see Lydia, who avoided his eyes while she sat on Aiden’s lap. He thought about outright telling her that he wasn’t mad, that he didn’t care. A little part of him wished he did, though.

 

 

Unsurprisingly, life _does_ continue once you’ve been cheated on. Days go by, and eventually you stop thinking about it so much. And after a while, you start to focus on other stuff again. Stiles still had an essay to due in English next week, he still needed to study for Mr. Harris’s awful chemistry test, and more importantly, he had a date with Derek tonight.

And holy _fuck_ , was he nervous.

Derek had asked him casually at lunch, about three weeks after the Jackson Incident. There were no roses, no candy coating, just an off the cuff, “Hey, want to do something Friday night?”

Stiles didn’t even know what they were doing. He was just told to be ready by eight, and to wear a jacket.

So he pulled his red hoodie over his nicest white t-shirt, and headed down the stairs to wait in the living room.

John was lounging in his armchair, every now and then glancing unsubtly over at Stiles, whose leg wouldn’t stop shaking.

“What’s this boy’s name?” his voice was gruff, disapproving, and Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Derek Hale.”

“Hale?” his brow furrowed, “That sounds familiar.”

“Well, he and his uncle _just_ moved into town a few months ago, so I doubt it.”

“Huh,” he looked like he was about to say something else, but there was a knock at the door.

Stiles stomach jumped straight up to his throat as he fell over himself to answer it. John chuckled, getting to his feet and following closely behind.

Stiles yanked the door open with a bit too much force, and he stumbled forward. Derek caught him with a chuckle.

“Nice to see you too,” he was smiling, and his eyes weren’t heavy with the weight of the world today, and that alone brought a smile to Stiles’ face as well.

“Why don’t you come in, Derek,” John stood behind Stiles, his arms crossed.

He mouthed a ‘sorry’ at Derek, before opening the door wider to let him in.

They stayed in the hall, where Derek shook John’s hand, promised to get Stiles back by eleven, and then said, “You’ve got a really good son here, Sheriff.”

Stiles blanched while John smiled proudly. The two said goodbye, and Derek took Stiles hand as they walked to the car.

Stiles was still reeling from his comment, and his discontent must have been loud and clear on his face, because Derek rubbed his thumb across Stiles’ furrowed brow and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not- John, he’s not… I’m not their son, Derek. I told you that.”

He frowned, “I know, I just thought- I mean, he’s obviously really proud of you, Stiles. It’s great that he cares, that’s all I meant.”

John? Proud? Of _Stiles?_ Unlikely since most of John’s time is spent criticizing Stiles’ choices. But that’s not what tonight was about, so he shook it off, “Yeah, okay. C’mon let’s get going. I want to see this ‘big surprise’ you got planned.”

Derek flashed him a wolfish grin and opened the car door, “Then get your ass in the car.”


	7. Stars (part two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the second half! hope you guys like it ;D

“I hope you don’t think it’s tacky.”

“Dude, if you haven’t picked up on this, I’m kind of fucking mesmerized by you. You could probably take me to some cheesy hill top to stargaze and I’d still think you were adorable.”

Derek looked pained.

“Oh my God, that’s what we’re doing isn’t it?”

“Not anymore,” he grumbled, his bottom lip jutting out in the most adorable angry pout Stiles had ever seen.

“Fuck no, that’s cute as shit dude. We’re so doing that.”

His ears were red, but he looked a little more pleased than pained and Stiles would take that as an accomplishment, thank you very much.

They drove until they were a few miles outside of town, before Derek turned down a dirt road that led up a gradual incline.

The trees lining the road eventually thinned until Derek put the car in park next to a grassy patch.

“Welcome to the Cheesy Hilltop,” he drawled, rolling his eyes as he got out of the car.

Stiles grinned and followed him.

He popped the trunk and grabbed a blanket, took Stiles’ hand again, and they walked to the peak of the hill. They laid the blanket down together, and settled in.

At first it was a little awkward, with both of them on opposite ends of the blanket, making awkward small talk, and flushing red whenever their eyes met. Until Derek reached over and tugged Stiles’ arm, pulling him down. Derek laid down next to him, and pulled him close with a small smile on his face.

“This okay?” he whispered, slipping an arm under Stiles’ neck.

Stiles forgot how to breathe for a second when their legs got tangled, but managed to stutter out, “Yeah, th-this is great.”

Derek’s eyes were hooded as they swept his face. Stiles definitely thought he was going to kiss him. And he was game. Totally game. So game that he actually couldn’t think about anything else but Derek’s lips. But he just smiled, and looked back up at the sky.

Stiles kept staring at his profile, gaze sweeping across the perfect angles and the curve of his nose and _fuck_ he wanted to just move a little to the left and press his lips against the stubble on Derek’s jaw. He was just about to do just that when Derek pointed to the sky.

“See Orion there?”

Stiles reluctantly dragged his eyes away from him to search for the constellation, “Yeah, I see it.”

“That star in the corner- yeah, that one- it’s a red dwarf star. It’s way bigger than our sun. Hey, you like Doctor Who, right? There’s a star called Alpha Centauri, like those aliens that look like potatoes. Also, Draco is a star in-”

Derek talked about stars and constellations for what could have been hours but Stiles didn’t care because quite honestly he could have listened to him talk all night. He knew at least one thing about every constellation, and he told him all the myths behind them as his foot slid along Stiles’ calf with maddening slowness.

“When the hell did you get so smart?” Stiles asked, smiling at him.

Derek scoffed, “Just because I suck at history doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I’ve loved astronomy since I was a kid. Mom used to-” he cleared his throat, and Stiles pressed his face into Derek’s neck, making a reassuring sound, “used to tell us all stories about the stars. When we couldn’t sleep.”

“We?”

“I had a pretty big family.”

The way he said it, with such finality, Stiles knew that he said it as a conversation ender. A ‘Do Not Pass Go’ sign. Stiles had never been good at following signs.

“What happened?”

It was silent except for the crickets for a long time. He didn’t press any further because he knew Derek would get there, he was just building up some courage. Stiles had been there before.

“There was, um, there was a fire. When I was young.”

Stiles pulled his head back and looked at him quizzically, “When you were young? I thought you said it was a few months ago.”

Derek furrowed his brow, “Did I?”

“Yeah, you said that’s why you and your uncle moved.”

“You… you must have misunderstood or something,” he shook his head a little, as if to clear his thoughts, “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about them.”

“Okay,” he relented with a soft smile. He bit his lip, hesitated a spit second before blurting out, “We don’t have to talk at all, if you don’t want.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up.

Stiles backpedalled, “O-Or not, we could talk, let’s talk all night that so-”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He pulled Stiles impossibly closer, and dipped his head to press their lips together. It started out gentle, with closed-lips and hands cautiously caressing. But before long he was sucking on Derek’s bottom lip, his hands slipping under is shirt to feel the taut skin of his stomach. Derek moaned a little, and it was the hottest things he had ever heard.

Derek rose up on his elbows and lowered himself onto Stiles, pressing into him with more intent now. Stiles arched up into him, and Derek moaned again, but this time it was more of a growl. He knotted his fingers into his hair, before yanking on it so he could mouth at the exposed skin on Stiles’ neck.

His stubble burned as it rubbed across his throat, but it was a good burn- the _best_ burn- and a breathy gasp escaped when Derek latched on to the soft skin where Stiles' neck met his shoulder. He could feel the scrape of teeth before the motherfucker just _sucked_ like his life fucking _depended_ on it. Stiles writhed beneath him, his blunt fingernails leaving marks on Derek’s back where he gripped him too hard. Derek’s hand that was still in his air tightened while his free hand ran along Stiles’ side, before it settled on his hip.

He pulled away with a rugged gasp, and pressed their foreheads together.

“I have to,” his breath halted as Stiles mouthed at his jaw, and gripped his hip hard enough to leave bruises, “ _fuck_ Stiles, I have to get you home soon.”

“Hell no,” he muttered, biting at Derek’s chin before claiming his mouth again.

He sighed into the kiss, but after only a few seconds rolled off of Stiles.

“I promised John,” he panted, rubbing a hand over his face.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “I didn’t.”

Derek sat up and smirked down at him, “I’d like to get on the Sheriff’s good side if you don’t mind.”

He rose to his feet and pulled Stiles up, before grabbing the blanket and walking towards the car.

“I’d rather you get on my good side,” he muttered under his breath, but Derek flashed him a smile, and Stiles knew he’d heard him.

“C’mon, let’s go so I can give you that goodnight kiss sooner than later,” he winked, and Stiles pretty much melted.

What the fuck was he getting in to? 


	8. Boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here ya go guys! let me know if you see any mistakes! I really appreciate all the comments I've been getting, you guys are awesome <3

Scott’s face when Derek and Stiles walked into the cafeteria hand in hand should not have been so funny. But Stiles couldn’t help but laugh anyway as his friend’s eyes widened to saucers and his jaw dropped.

“How could you not tell me?” he hissed when they sat down.

“Which part?”

Her eyebrows shot up, “Part? Dude, we are hanging out, and you are going to tell me _everything_. Sorry Derek, but I’m going to have to steal Stiles for a while this weekend.” Scott said as he elbowed him.

“We’ll see,” Derek said, winking at him then putting his arm around Stiles.

He just laughed and rolled his eyes.

Scott soon became distracted when Allison stopped by the table to talk to him, leaving Stiles and Derek a few moments to themselves.

 “Come over after school,” it was a demand rather than a question, but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to care because Derek had already moved to kiss his neck.

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbled, dizzy just from being around him.

“Good,” he from his neck to his lips.

“Ew, PDA,” Scott whined.

“Shut up,” Derek muttered, and continued to kiss him.

Stiles laughed and lightly shoved his shoulder, “We’re going to get in trouble, idiot.”

“Fine,” he pouted, and settled for pulling him even closer against his side.

Stiles looked around the cafeteria absentmindedly, before his eyes locked with Jackson’s across the room. He was furious; his jaw was locked and his eyes were filled with hurt.

Stiles looked away, choosing instead to stare at his fingers intertwined with Derek’s. It was a much better view, anyway.

 

After school, Stiles texted John saying he’d be home around ten. He got into Derek’s car, while he babbled about some science project.

“Sorry, I may be good at history, but I’m still in junior level science,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

Derek glanced at him from the side of his eyes before looking back at the road and scowling. “Stop,” he muttered, a smile playing at the edge of his lips.

“Stop what?” he laughed, rested an elbow on the middle console and rested his head on hand.

“Being cute. You’re making it hard to focus on the road.”

Stiles grinned mischievously. He leaned towards Derek to press a chaste kiss to his neck.

He groaned, and Stiles made his way to kissing the skin behind his ear. “Stiles,” he began, his voice hoarse, “not that I’m not thoroughly enjoying this, but perhaps we should wait until we get home.”

Stiles chuckled, and leaned back into his seat.

                 

“Your uncle home?” Stiles asked, noticing an unfamiliar white car parked by the shed.

“Yeah, he’s upstairs working, so we won’t bother him.” His tone was odd, but Stiles forgot all about it when he pulled him into his arms and kissed him.

Stiles absently wondered how many times he was going to have to kiss him before his head would stop spinning. When they separated, Derek took his hand, and led him into the house, and then into the living room.

“I have a question,” he said, and Stiles laughed at his formality.

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me why you insist on being called Stiles?”

Stiles sighed, and buried his face in Derek’s shoulder, mumbling unintelligibly.

“Come on, baby, please?”

He ignored the little thrill that raced through him when Derek called him ‘baby’. “Why does it matter?”

“Maybe because I’d like to know my boyfriend’s real name? At least give me that much.”

Stiles couldn’t, however, keep the brilliant grin off his face after he said that, “Boyfriend?”

Derek just shot him a withering look.

He laughed, but then his eyes got real serious, and he whispered, “Genim. Sounds nothing like how it’s spelled, no one can say it right, and I hate it. So please, just call me Stiles.”

Derek smiled, and kissed his forehead, “It’s beautiful.” He pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “You’re pretty beautiful, too.”

Stiles smiled, “Beautiful?”

“Yeah, hurts to look at you sometimes.”

“You’re one to talk,” he said, curling a hand around Derek’s neck.

They sat like that for a while, not kissing or talking, just touching. It had never been that easy with Jackson. Everything was rushed, whenever they were alone, it was like a race for the fastest relief.

Not that Stiles wasn’t _totally_ game for something like that. He’d pretty much not been able to think about anything other than Derek’s cock for some time now. It had had a starring role in all of his sexual fantasies as of late. But he kind of liked the pace they had been working at. It felt normal, and Stiles hadn’t felt normal for a long time.

Derek’s hand traveled along his spine in soothing strokes, his fingers stopping every now and then to knead his back, making Stiles’ hum with pleasure.

They both jumped when music blared from Stiles’ phone. Derek leaned away with a lazy smile, relaxing into the couch as Stiles dug through his book bag for his phone.

“Hello?”

_“Your curfew is nine, remember? We gave you a break the other night, but you are still technically grounded.”_

Stiles whined, “Come on! I’ve been good lately.”

_“Genim... I’m not backing down. Nine o’ clock.”_  

He groaned, “Fine.”

“What was that about?”

“Apparently my grounded curfew is still in place. I have to be home by nine.”

“Not a problem,” he smiled.

Stiles rolled his eyes and replied, “It’s ridiculous. She’s so...”

“I’m sure she’s great. Now come on, if we don’t get at least a little a homework done I’ll be screwed for tomorrow.”

Stiles made a face, and Derek rolled his eyes and gave him a quick kiss before he leaned over to grab his bag.

“History?” he asked, holding out a textbook.

“History,” Stiles agreed with a sigh.

 

They did homework and studied for about another hour or two before they started to get hungry.

“This way,” Derek said, guiding Stiles down the hallway with his hand on the small of his back.

“Dear God,” he commented, staring at the monstrous kitchen.

Derek chuckle softly and nodded, “I know. This place is kinda intimidating.”

Suddenly Stiles was in the air as Derek lifted him to sit on the counter.

 “Whoa,” he said, and tried to regain his balance by holding tight to Derek’s shoulders.

He smiled, leaned in to kiss Stiles briefly, and then asked, “What do you want?”

“What ya got?”

Derek rummaged around his freezer, listing off the foods he had, before they both decided on good old Pizza Rolls.

After putting them in the oven, Derek sauntered back over to Stiles and looked up at him. Sitting on the countertop gave Stiles a few good inches on Derek, and he had just ducked his head to press a kiss to his lips when Derek said, “I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier.”

Stiles sighed, frustrated, “Thinking is stupid. We should just make out instead.”

He smirked, “In a second. I realized I never officially asked you to be my boyfriend.”

“Derek you don’t have to-”

“I want to.” He said, ending any argument, “Genim,” he began- pronounced it correctly on the first time, too, Stiles was impressed- and moved to cradle Stiles’ jaw with his hand before continuing, “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Stiles tangled his fingers in Derek’s shirt, “Yes,” he whispered, and Derek kissed him. He wrapped his arms around Stiles’ lower back, holding him tightly against him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbled against his lip, “You knew I was already yours.”

Derek smiled softly, “I just want you to know that I’m not going to treat you like Jackson did. I promise.”

Stiles returned his smile and replied, “I know you won’t. You’re different. And not just compared to Jackson. To every guy I’ve ever met. There’s just something so unique about you.”

His smile became distant for a second, and his eyes clouded over with the familiar look of despair. Before Stiles could ask what was wrong, Derek said, “Better check on the Pizza Rolls,” and he pulled away.

Stiles just stared after him, and wondered what he had said wrong.

 

Stiles didn’t have a chance to ask Derek about his strange behavior for the rest of the night. Before they knew it, it was nine, and it was time for him to go.

 

 

Being with Derek made time fly by so fast. Days could pass and Stiles seemed to be stuck in a permanent, perfect moment with him. It was fucking cliché but he loved it anyway. They had been together officially for about three months, but it seemed like a blink of an eye.

 

“Thanks for the ride,” Stiles said as they pulled into the driveway.

“Claudia home?” Derek asked as he eyes the house.

“Yeah, she’s home, I’ll be fine,” he leaned over to kiss him goodnight, but Derek just grinned, and got out of the car.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked, slightly panicked. He tried to get out, but as always,the seatbelt was stuck, and he couldn’t get it.

Derek walked over to his side of the car, and helped him out.

 “What are you doing?” he repeated as he grabbed his hand and began walking towards the door.

“Introducing myself to your foster mom.”

Stiles stopped in his tracks, and pulled him to a halt. “ _Foster_ mom! Foster being the key word there. She doesn’t count. Please Derek, don’t do this,” he begged, but Derek just pulled me along.

“Don’t be dense, Stiles. She counts.”

Muttering to himself, he pulled out his key. When they were inside, he shouted, “Claudia, someone wants to meet you!”

Both she and John walked out of the kitchen with skeptical looks on their faces.

“Yes?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.

“John, you’ve already met Derek. But he wanted to introduce himself to Claudia. This is Derek,” he paused, and then said, “Okay, we’ve all met! You can go now, Derek.” He tried to shove Derek towards the door.

He just smiled at him, but didn’t budge.

“Nice to meet you,” Claudia said, holding out a hand, and Derek shook it.

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

“And you’re Stiles’...” she glanced at Stiles briefly before continuing, “boyfriend?”

Derek smiled and nodded, “Yeah,”

John and Claudia exchanged a look. “Well,” she began, “we would love it if you could join us for dinner sometime.”

“That would be great, ma’am.”

She smiled, “I’ll have Stiles tell you the details later.”

Stiles groaned and continued his efforts to shove Derek towards the door.

“Thanks, again, it was great to meet you Mrs. Stilinski, and nice to see you again, Sheriff, but I think I should probably go,” He said, laughing and looking at Stiles.

“Finally,” he breathed, and then said to his foster parents, “Be right back.” He pushed Derek again and finally got him out the door.

“Was that necessary?” he asked once they were outside and the door was shut.

“Yes, it was. I want them to like me.” He said, and pulled Stiles into a tight hug.

“They’ll love you, Derek. There’s no reason for them not to. You’re amazing,” Stiles said into his neck.

He chuckled softly, “Thanks, baby.”

They said their goodbyes, and then Stiles went back inside. He was able to sneak up to his room without questions from Claudia or John, thank God.

 

As it turned out, Derek couldn’t come to dinner until next week, on Friday. His science project was due soon, and he needed to finish it (or start it, depending on who you ask).

But, much to his displeasure, Friday seemed to come faster than the first time Stiles got a blow job.

“I got it!” he shouted when there was a knock at the door, and he raced down the stairs.

He opened the door, but it wasn’t Derek, as he had expected. Instead, Jackson stood on the stoop, wringing his hands together nervously.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too, babe. We need to talk,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Now?” he asked, and glanced over his shoulder to make sure neither John or Claudia were listening.

“Now.”

Stiles stepped outside, and shut the door. “What do you want?” he asked, rudely.

“It’s not fair, Stiles. You dumped me and didn’t even give me a chance to fight for you.”

“I don’t _want_ you to fight for me. I’m happy with Derek. Please, just drop it, I’m begging you.”

He took a threatening step closer to him, “Don’t count on it.”

Just then Stiles heard the sound of Derek’s Camaro in the driveway.

Jackson looked over his shoulder, then groaned, and hung his head briefly. “This isn’t over,” he stated, walking backwards and pointing at him.

By the time Derek, was getting out of his car, Jackson was getting into his.

“What was that all about?” he questioned, an eyebrow raised.

“Nothing, I- nothing. Come on, Claudia has been dying to embarrass me all week,” he said, rolled his eyes and grabbed Derek’s hand.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he pulled Stiles back close to him, and said, “It feels like I haven’t seen you all week.”

He wrapped his arms around his back, “That’s okay. You’ve been busy with your project, and stuff,” he said, and rested his head on Derek’s shoulder.

“I could have made time,” He mumbled into Stiles’ hair.

He laughed, and leaned back to look him in the eyes, “Der, its fine. You had to finish your project. Finishing high school is important.”

He smiled sheepishly, and leaned down to kiss him.

“C’mon,” Stiles said after they separated, “they’re waiting.” 


	9. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but important. Maybe a little emotional triggery? If you're worried about it, read the notes at the end, but there will be minor spoilers.

“Everything looks great, ma’am,” Derek said, eyeing the food that Claudia had set on the table.

“Thank you, Derek,” she said, smiling, “It’s rare that we ever get Genim to sit at the table with us, so thank you for making that happen.”

Stiles groaned, and put his head in his hands. He hated every part of this. Derek’s meeting them, him getting to know them, and vice versa. Stiles was _not_ the kind of guy to bring someone home to meet ‘mom and dad’. He laughed at those guys. What was Derek even _doing_ to him? Stiles had never felt so _normal_.

“You play any sports?” John asked, as he eyed Derek warily and looked for a fault.

“I haven’t been involved in any since I moved here, sir, but I was on the basketball team at my last school.”

John nodded approvingly.

Stiles tried his best to make it through dinner. Derek did great. He talked sports with John, and was really nice to Claudia. He had them practically eating out of their hands by the end of dinner.

“You and Derek can go; John and I will clear the table.”

“Thank you for everything, it was all great,” Derek said with a smile before Stiles grabbed his hand, and led him out of the dining room.

“They seem so nice. Why do you hate it here so much?” Derek asked, and pulled Stiles closer once they were out of sight.

“It’s complicated.”

“Un-complicate it for me,” he whispered, and nudged Stiles’ shoulder.

He sighed, and dipped his head. “Come on,” he mumbled, and pulled Derek towards the back door.

 

 

The backyard had a small porch, Stiles led him to the porch swing, and they both sat down.

"I don't like getting close to my foster families."

"Why?

“It’s not really something I can explain that easily,” he said, hugging his knees against his chest.

“Try, please,” Derek begged softly, and Stiles closed his eyes.

Stiles had never told anyone, not even Scott, about his first foster family. It was something he’d kept locked up for years, and it terrified him to finally open it back up again.

But Derek was worth it.

“I was at an orphanage until I was about four years old,” he began quietly, “I don’t remember much about it, but it was probably an all right place. After that, I was sent to my first foster home. Their names were Sarah and Tom Lahey. They were… fuck, they were great. I loved them. They had a son, Isaac, he was a year older than I was. He was a sweet kid. He would always share his toys with me, didn’t care when I started calling his parents ‘mom’ and ‘dad’. Sarah was such a sweet lady, never knew a stranger.”

Stiles smiled at the memory of her, his eyes getting watery. Derek grabbed his hand and squeezed, and he continued, “Tom was nice, too. When I turned six, he let me go out for the T-Ball team. It was perfect,” he cleared his throat, and used his free hand to wipe the stray tears that escaped, “but then, then Sarah got sick. Really sick. And she just kept getting worse. By the time they got it checked out, it was too late. She was already stage four. God, she was so brave. Through the whole fucking thing. Even looking back, I don’t think I saw her cry _once_. At least, not around Isaac or me. She died. She died and then everything changed,” he was shaking as he remembered, “Tom didn’t take it well. He g-got, he got really mean.”

He bit his lip, his voice rugged and broken as he gasped out, “Poor Isaac,” his voice gave out, so Derek hauled him into his lap, and wrapped his arms around him. He couldn’t speak for a few minutes, so he just clung desperately to Derek. “I don’t wanna talk about it anym-more,” he stuttered, and fuck it all, he was crying for real by this point.

Derek shushed him as he stroked his head. “I’ve got you, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he murmured, his face pressed against Stiles’ neck.

He held him like that for a long time. Every now and then he would whisper comforting words and reassurance in Stiles’ ear. Eventually, the tears stopped, and he found his voice again.

“I’m really sorry.”

“You shut up. I don’t want to hear you apologizing for being honest with me. Ever.”

Derek took his face in his hands, and stared at him with more intensity than Stiles had ever seen, “Thank you for trusting me with that, Stiles. I just… thank you.”

He kissed him like Stiles was precious, like maybe he would shatter if pressed too hard. Neither one of them wanted to be the first to pull away.

 _I love you_ was at the tip of Stiles’ tongue. But he bit it back; he was already feeling too emotionally raw to risk a rejection

When they parted, Stiles managed a half-smile.

“Your turn,” he whispered, looking into Derek’s eyes and squeezing his hand.

“My turn for what?”

“I shared about my past. Now I want to know about yours. C’mon, tell me about your family. Tell me about your uncle,” he said, and rested his head in the crook of Derek’s neck.

He pushed him away though, and leaned back.

“What?” he asked, wounded.

“Uh, nothing. W-what do you want to know?” Derek mumbled, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know… just, everything, I guess.”

Derek’s eyes filled with the familiar heaviness, and it made the shadows casting across his face look sinister.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“C’mon, Derek. Why won’t you ever talk about them? I mean, you’ve met my foster parents... I was kinda hoping that I’d get to meet your uncle.”

He shook his head vigorously, “God, no. Absolutely not.”

Stiles just stared at him blankly for a moment, before he said, “Why? Why can’t I meet him?”

“It’s not going to happen, Stiles. So you can just forget about it.”

Stiles scoffed, and stood up suddenly.

“What?” Derek asked, sighing.

“So... what? I can’t meet your uncle... because you don’t want me to? You’re embarrassed? I’m not good enough to meet him?” he questioned, getting louder with every accusation.

“No,” Derek’s eyes widened as he stood up, and put his hands on Stiles’ shoulders, “No, no of course not. Baby, listen-” but Stiles cut him off.

“Don’t _baby_ me, I fucking opened up to you! About _everything_ , and you won’t even fucking _talk_ to me!” he shouted, and they just stood there for a minute, staring each other down.

Stiles could feel the tears rising again, so he looked away, and whispered, “I think you’d better go.” He pushed past him to get inside.

“Stiles,”

“Please, Derek” he turned back to look at him, the first tear sliding down his cheek, “just go.” And he went inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talks about a loved one having breast cancer and dying. Very vague implications of abuse.


	10. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a longer one for you. DUBCOOOOOON at the end. so beware.

Stiles went straight up to his room, and didn’t hear from Derek the rest of the night. Or the rest of the weekend. And he wasn’t at school on Monday. And fuck, Stiles knew they were fighting, but they were still a couple, and he seemed to have disappeared.

“What are you gonna do?” Scott asked absentmindedly, focusing texting Allison. They sat on Stiles’ bed, their heads hanging off the side.

“I don’t know. I don’t want call him, because I don’t want give in. I just want know where the hell he is!”

“Go to his house. Do some snooping. That’s what I would do.”

Stiles laughed, “And how many relationships have you had?”

“Shut up. I’m working on it.”

“You might be on to something though...”

“Fuck, dude, no, I was kidding!” Scott hesitated, “Can I come?”

“No. Anyway, it’s completely crazy. It’s ridiculous.”

But now that the idea was in Stiles’ head, he knew it would stay there.

 

Since John and Claudia were oblivious to the fact that Stiles and Derek were fighting, they saw no issue with dropping Stiles off at his house.

He took a quick look out by the shed, and both his uncle’s and his car were there. Stiles plan melted away as soon he reached the front door. He had no idea what to do. He couldn’t sneak around, and Derek was mad at him, so he couldn’t just randomly show up. But it was too late to go back, though, so he knocked tentatively. A few seconds later, a woman around the age of thirty- some sort of maid he would assume, according to the apron and broom- opened the door.

“May I help you?” she asked, her accent vaguely Brazilian.

“Uh, yeah. Is Derek here?” he asked nervously.

“Ah, no he is not. But he is due to return home shortly. You can wait if you want.” She opened the door wider, and let Stiles through.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, smiling anxiously. She just nodded, and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

With one more glance towards where the maid disappeared, Stiles hurried up the staircase.

Since the house was so freaking big, he just went into the first room he saw. It looked like some kind of study, so he assumed it was Derek’s uncles. He went to the desk, and began opening drawers.

Stiles felt awful, going through his stuff like this. But there was something off about Derek’s elusive uncle. The look in Derek’s eyes when he talked about him, even briefly, was haunting. He was scared of him, and Stiles needed to know why.

In the last drawer he looked he found a small black briefcase. It had a lock keeping him from opening it. Stiles grabbed a bobby-pin out of his pocket. He couldn’t remember when or why he learned to pick locks, but he was grateful for it now. He had it open in about thirty seconds.

Nothing seemed glaringly out of the ordinary, except that there were about nine wallets. Each had a different ID, driver’s license and social security card.

“What the hell?” he whispered to himself as he flipped through them all.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up sometime, Jackie, don’t worry.”

Stiles jumped at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. It had to be Derek’s uncle.

“Shit,” he mumbled, hastily closed the case, and put it back in the desk.

The footsteps became louder as he neared the study. Stiles dove behind a book case.

The man entered the study, pausing in the doorway as he looked around. Stiles could only see a sliver of his face, but he had light brown hair, and worry lines.

Stiles held his breath, terrified that even a small sound would give him away.

He just stood at the doorway a minute, his brow creased before he shrugged and turned off the light.

Stiles stayed where he was for what seemed like a lifetime. When he was sure that no one was upstairs, or at least no one was awake, he slipped out from behind the bookcase. It was dark, and it was his first time being upstairs, so he had to move slowly so he wouldn’t bump into anything. Finally, he made it downstairs, made sure no one was around, and bolted to the door.

 

He walked about half a block away from the house before he pulled out his cell and called Scott.

_“How’d it go?”_ he asked, anxious.

“Fine, I didn’t get caught. Is there any possible way you could find a way to give me a ride home? Claudia and John are visiting someone until late.”

_“Well, I don’t have a car. Oh, I could call Allison!”_

“Yeah, ask Allison! She’ll do it.” Stiles felt a little bad involving Allison in this, but she was the biggest sweetheart he’d ever met, and wouldn’t ask any questions.

  _“Okay... I’ll call her. Where are you?”_ he asked.

Stiles read off the nearest street signs.

  _“Be there soon.”_

 

Scott and Allison pulled up next to him about ten minutes later.

“Thank you _so_ much, Allison. Seriously, you’re a life saver,” He said as he jumped in the backseat.

“Yeah well, I still don’t know what it’s about,” she mumbled, looking in the rearview mirror at him, and raising her eyebrows.

“Let’s hope that continues.”

She just laughed and rolled her eyes, before she headed for his house.

Stiles thanked Allison again, said goodbye to Scott, and went inside.

 

He couldn’t sleep that night. His mind just wouldn’t shut up. Desperately, he searched for an innocent, logical answer as to why all those wallets were in Derek’s uncle’s study. But when a logical one popped into his head, it was far from innocent. So he stuck to the innocent theories, however illogical they might be.

 

 

Allison and Scott picked Stiles up for school the next day. He was silent for most of the ride, contemplating what he would say if Derek was at school today.

Once they were at school, and Allison had departed to go talk to some friends, Scott turned to him.

“You okay?” he asked, walking close to him as we headed inside.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his eyes searching the parking lot for a black Camaro. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved to find it park on the other side of the lot.

They walked in the front doors, and both went their separate ways. He took his time as he walked to his locker, and his heart jumped when he saw Derek at his. Stiles just took a deep breath, and strode up to the locker.

Neither of them said a word at first, but Stiles knew he knew he was there. They both silently put books in their lockers, until Derek sighed, and shut his. He leaned against his locker, facing Stiles. He looked down, but turned to face Derek.

“Can we talk about Friday?” he asked.

Stiles looked up at him and nodded, “Yeah, when?”

“After school. Okay?” he dipped his head to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, okay. That’d be good.”

 

Stiles couldn’t help but be excited about talking to Derek. Despite how mad he was at him, he had missed him. The day couldn’t go by any slower. They didn’t get to talk in history, since the entire class was for people to present projects. And he didn’t see him at all at lunch, either.

Stiles hurried to his locker after school, to see Derek was already there waiting for him.

“Hey,” he said, smiling slowly, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

They both walked out to his car, and got in.

“Where we headed?” Stiles asked, buckling in.

“I don’t know. My house?”

He just nodded, so Derek backed out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of his house.

They were both silent. Neither of them wanted to be the first to speak.

“So,” he began when they were in his living room.

“So,” Stiles echoed, feeling terribly awkward.

“Look Stiles, I’m really sorry about Friday. The way I meant it was not at all how it sounded. Baby, it’s not that I’m too embarrassed by you to introduce you to my uncle. It’s _him_ I’m worried about. I don’t want you meeting him, because of who _he_ is. It has nothing to do with you. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding,” He said, and pulled Stiles in to hug him.

He stayed stiff for a moment, but then hugged him back, burying his face in Derek’s neck.

“I’m sorry too. I overreacted.”

“Am I forgiven?” he asked, leaning his forehead against Stiles’.

“Of course,” he whispered, and Derek moved to kiss him, “Buuuut,” he began, and Derek groaned, “I still want to meet your uncle.”

He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, “No Stiles. I’m sorry, but no. It’s not going to happen.”

“Why? He can’t be _that_ bad. I really, really want to meet him Derek. It’s important to me.”

Derek just looked at his feet, “Is it really _that_ essential to you?”

“Yeah, it is.”

He sighed, and put his head in his hands. He stayed that way for a minute before he finally said, “Then fine. You can meet him. But briefly. No small talk, just meet him, and then we leave. Got it?”

Stiles nodded, and Derek sat down on the couch with a sigh, “God, Stiles. You’re something else,” He said, smiling.

Stiles laughed, “Better believe it,” and leaned over to kiss him.

 

Derek was able to find an excuse for Stiles not to meet his uncle every day for two weeks.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he said to him one day while they were walking around town.

He just shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, “He’s been logging in a lot of hours lately.”

Stiles just sighed and played with the string on his hoodie.

“When?” he asked quietly, kicking a rock in front of him while they walked.

“I don’t know Stiles. I’m going against my better judgment just to let you meet him. Give it some time.”

“What’s so bad about him?” Stiles asked after a moment of silence, “Why don’t you want me to meet him?”

He exhaled loudly, “It’s complicated. And it’s not something I can explain. I just think it would be best if my home life and my personal life were kept separate.” He stopped walking and turned to look at me, “Why is it so important anyway?”

“I don’t know. It just is. Cause I’ve never been in a normal relationship, and I want do things right this time.”

Derek sighed, and moved closer to hug him. “You can meet him soon. I promise,” he mumbled into Stiles’ hair.

He just smiled, and hugged him tighter.

 

 

“Anything special planned?” Scott asked.

It was Derek’s and Stiles’ six month anniversary. He wasn’t sure whether they were going to make anything of it, until Derek had come up to him after school last week, kissed him hard on the mouth and whispered, “Free up next weekend, we’ve got plans.”

So Scott was at his house, hanging out before Allison came to pick him up for _their_ date.

“Don’t know. He’s being really secretive about it. Although he told me to dress all fancy, so maybe dinner or something?”

“Do you even own anything fancy?” he asked, and made a face.

 “I think I have a tie somewhere.”

“You’re hopeless.”

 

 

Derek called Stiles last minute, and asked if he could come over first. So Claudia dropped him off about half an hour before we were supposed to be wherever Derek was taking him.

“Hey,” Derek said when he opened the door, and butterflies danced in Stiles’ stomach.

Stiles forwent the greeting and just kissed him instead.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” he said, grinning.

Stiles smiled back.

“Come on in,” he stepped back to let him in.

“I left something upstairs, wait here, I’ll be right back,” Derek said, kissed the tip of Stiles’ nose, and headed upstairs.

Stiles hovered near the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stood there awkwardly, not exactly sure what to do.

“Derek was someone at the do-” he jumped when he heard Derek’s uncle’s voice behind me. It instantly made him feel guilty, like he’d just been caught doing something wrong, “Oh, I’m sorry. You are?”

The man was extremely intimidating. At first glance he looked harmless enough, friendly, even, but his eyes were crafty. When he smiled, Stiles shivered. And not in the good way.

 “Uh, I’m Stiles. D-Derek’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, yes. I think he’s mentioned you.”

“Peter, what are you doing home?” Derek asked from the bottom of the stairs. His eyes were wide with alarm, and he looked between them in panic.

“I got done early. Now why don’t you be polite and introduce me to your boyfriend,” he drawled, and Derek narrowed his eyes.

“Stiles, this is my uncle, Peter. Peter, this is my boyfriend Stiles.” He moved to stand next to Stiles, admittedly a bit rigid.

“Nice to meet you,” Peter extended his hand, and Stiles shook it hesitantly

“You too, sir.”

“Okay, we have to go,” Derek grumbled, and pulled Stiles away towards the door.

Once they were outside, Stiles pulled him to a stop.

“ _What_ was that?”

“That was you meeting my uncle,” he spat, “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Derek, what is going on between you two? You act like you hate him.”

“This is why I didn’t want you meeting him. You’ll just jump to conclusions. Drop it.” He blew past Stiles and walked towards his car.

“Why are you acting like this?” he demanded, not moving from where he was.

Derek sighed, and leaned against the driver’s side of his car.

“Because, I-I, God, I can really screw things up can’t I?”

Stiles just crossed his arms.

“I’m sorry. Peter’s a touchy subject. Can we please not talk about it?”

He gave him a hard look and was totally prepared to tell him off, but then Derek gave him that smile that sort of melted his insides, so he just kissed him instead.

 

They went to dinner at the nicest place within thirty miles of Beacon Hills. It was full of swanky snobby people, the food was overpriced, and everyone looked down their noses at them, but fuck if it wasn’t one of the best nights of Stiles’ life. He laughed to loud and drank too much of the faux champagne, but the way Derek smiled when he let out an usually loud cackle made all the stink eyes worth it.

They ended up on the same side of the booth, with Derek’s hand on Stiles’ upper thigh and his lips on Stiles’ ear.

“Wanna get out of here?” he muttered against his neck, while his hand moved maddeningly closer to Stiles’ dick.

“Fuck, yes,” he breathed, his fingers flexing on Derek’s forearm.

He motioned for the check, and leaned away from Stiles to grab his wallet.

He paid the bill and thanked the waiter, before pulling Stiles out the door.

They barely made it to the car before Derek was crowding him against the door. His tongue pressed against the seam of Stiles’ lips, and he opened for him with a groan. His hands fisted in Derek’s shirt and he arched up against him, bringing their already half hard cocks flush against each other.

“Stiles, _fuck_ ,” he hissed, and gripped Stiles’ hips to still his desperate grinding, “Peter’s at work. We can go to my place.”

Stiles might have panted out a ‘yeah’, he also may have cursed, but he _definitely_ moaned when Derek chased his pulse point with his tongue.

“We should, w-we should get in the car,” he hissed, biting back another moan when Derek palmed his cock through his pants, “ _fuck, Derek,_ I wanna be able to finish this.”

Derek broke away from his neck with a gasp, but nodded shakily, “Yeah, yeah, that. Let’s, do that.”

The car ride back to Derek’s was the longest Stiles had ever had to suffer.

But it also gave him time to think.

Not about whether he was ready for what he was _pretty_ certain was about to happen between Derek and him. Because, fuck yeah, he was ready for that. Had been since the moment he laid eyes on the dude.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about Derek’s uncle, which was a real boner killer, let me tell you.

The dude was creepy as hell and, for some reason, Derek was scared of him. And that scared the fuck out of Stiles, because Derek never seemed to be afraid of anything.

He was broken from his train of thought as they pulled up to the house. Derek flashed him a smile and leaned over to kiss him. It only lasted a few brief seconds before they were both getting out of the car.

Derek led him up to his room, and they passed the office Stiles had hidden in to escape the infamous Peter but that only faintly registered in his mind because Derek _fucking_ Hale was pushing him back onto a bed and climbing on top of him. And Stiles was so fucking ready.

Which is probably why fate chose that exact moment to make Derek’s phone ring.

He cursed, but didn’t move, “I’ll let it go to messages,” he muttered, his mouth returning to Stiles’.

Stiles had just worked his hands under Derek’s shirt and was about to yank it off when the phone rang again.

He rolled off of Stiles with a grunt, and angrily reached for his phone. He checked called ID, cursed, and then answered it.

“What the hell do you want?”

Stiles propped himself up on is elbows and watched Derek as he tried to catch his breath.

_Who is it_ , he mouthed when Derek looked his way, but he only grimaced and waved a hand.

“That’s not my problem, now, is it?”

He stood abruptly, motioning to Stiles that he would be right back, and strode of the room, his voice hushed and furious.

He collapsed back on the bed with a sigh. He was already shirtless, with his pants unbuttoned but still zipped. It was a little cold without Derek on top of him, so he reached for his discarded shirt on the floor. It had landed at the base of a side table, which had some paper peeking out through the drawer.

Stiles wasn’t going to open it. He wasn’t. That was an invasion of privacy.

_It’s better than sneaking in and snooping in a strange man’s office_ , a voice inside his head whispered. And fuck it, Stiles agreed.

There was a single newspaper article in it, so he pulled it out carefully. The headline had something to do with a baseball team from Carolina. It was a local paper printed a little over a year ago. Stiles scanned the article, wondering what was so special about it. He looked at the picture. It was of the baseball team in their uniforms. One looked exactly like Derek. He glanced at the names at the bottom. _Derek Kayne._

“Kayne?” he muttered to himself. That name sounded startlingly familiar.

He realized where he remembered it from the exact moment Derek walked back into the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Derek hissed as he snatched the article out of his hands.

_Kayne_. It had been on one of the IDs in Peter’s briefcase.

“You can’t go digging through people’s drawers, Stiles!”

He ignored him, “Why is your name different there?”

Derek stuffed the paper back into the side table and wouldn’t meet Stiles’ eyes.

He stood so they were eye to eye, and pressed on, “Derek, why the hell is your name different?”

Derek finally looked at him with burning eyes. In a flash, he gripped Stiles’ hips and brought them flush against his, “Is that really what you want to be talking about right now?” he ground his erection against Stiles’, and _fucking hell_ it worked to distract him for a minute, but he was not to be deterred.

“Something’s going on here, Der, and you’ll have to tell me eventually.”

He crashed their mouths together, and it was too much, too rough. There was too much teeth and Derek’s fingertips were pressing against him hard enough to leave bruises but it was a good kind of hurt.

Stiles fucking whined and held on to Derek like he was drowning. Suddenly, they were on the bed again, and Derek nudged a knee between Stiles’ legs as he pressed him down into the mattress. He finally got his shirt off, but didn’t have much time to appreciate the view because Derek was back on him in a second.

Stiles belatedly realized that Derek was trying to divert him. He was doing a pretty damn good job of it too, because even though he knew he should push Derek off, and demand the truth, all he wanted to do was keep rutting against him life his life depended on it.

But if the fucker wanted to play, Stiles would milk it for all that it was worth.

He slid his hands down to Derek’s ass and arched, making him growl against Stiles’ neck as his hips stuttered. He retaliated by slipping his hands under the waist band of Stiles’ boxers, and giving his cock a firm stroke.

Now Stiles was arching up for a whole different reason. It only took a dozen strokes before he was coming in Derek’s fist.

Derek rutted against him a few more times before he moaned through his own release.

He rolled off of Stiles but curled an arm around his waist, pressing his face into his neck with a sigh.

“We’re not done talking about this, asshole,” Stiles mumbled sleepily, already relaxing in the comfort of Derek’s arms.

“Whatever you say, babe.”


	11. EDITING NOTICE

NOT A CHAPTER, SORRY.

Okay, I've gotten a few comments pointing mistakes out, and that's awesome, thank you guys, but I thought I'd make a list of things you guys could look out for? Cause I edit the chapters but my editing skills are below par, so I really appreciate when you guys point stuff out. If you didn't already know, I wrote this years ago before Sterek was even a thing, and I just recently started converting it into a fanfiction, so there are some main mistakes I may have made.

1\. If I ever change to first person, tell me where, cause the story was originally in first person and sometimes I miss an 'I' or a 'my'.  
2\. If I you see that I've refereed to either Stiles or Scott with feminine pronouns, let me know. Again, in the original story they were both girls.  
3\. If I call the Camaro a BMW, point it out. That's another thing that changed when this became a Sterek fic.  
4\. If I randomly call Peter Derek's 'dad' instead of his 'uncle', tell me where.  
5\. And if you ever see something that doesn't follow what was previously said, don't be afraid to call me out on it, cause it might just be something I missed in editing.   
6.. Also, if I just goof grammar or use a wrong word, cause I definitely make dumb mistakes sometimes. 

Thank you so so much for reading and commenting, I wasn't sure if anyone was going to like this and you guys are just awesome.

(I'll delete this later)


	12. Empty Threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what mistakes you see! Thank you for all the comments guys, I really appreciate it(:

They never did talk about it.

Not for lack of trying, but now that Derek knew Stiles was so easily distracted by his fucking _glorious_ body, he used that to his advantage.

And Stiles sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

Even still, things had gotten tense, like they were both walking on eggshells. Derek didn’t smile as much anymore, and Stiles never knew whether he should feel guilty or angry.

But they were still trying.

 

“Oh God,” Scott mumbled at Stiles locker one morning.

“What?” Both he and Derek asked simultaneously, trying to see where he was looking.

“Jackson’s coming. And as much as I’d _love_ to watch this confrontation, I should sit this one out. Have fun, kids.”

Stiles glanced at Derek’s face, which was expressionless, as he watched Jackson get closer and closer.

“Stiles,” Jackson greeted warmly, completely ignoring Derek.

“What?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“No,” Derek growled, moving closer to Stiles protectively.

Jackson laughed, “What? Does he own you now, baby?” he leaned closer, “Cause the Stiles I know would never let anyone control him.”

He stuck his chin out defensively.

“Just saying. Well, if you decide to break the leash he’s got you on, I really do need to talk to you.” He glanced at Derek coldly, then back at me., Later, baby.” He walked off.

“I hate him,” Derek muttered.

Stiles sighed, “I know,” he turned to face him, and offered him a comforting smile, “You okay?”

Derek nodded, and pressed a kiss to the side of his head, “I’m great.”

 

Jackson ate lunch by his car with a few of his friends. So Stiles knew exactly where he was going when he told Derek that he needed to go talk to one of his teachers before slipping away.

“If you want to talk now’s the time,” he said, with his arms crossed.

Jackson jumped off the hood of his car, grabbed Stiles’ forearm, and led him away from his friends.

“I knew you’d come around,” He said, grinning cockily.

“I’m not here because I want you back. I’m here to ask you to leave me alone. I mean, fuck, Jackson! I’m happy with Derek, and I really like him.”

“Do you love him?”

He hesitated, then said, “Why do you care?”

“Because, if you don’t, there is still hope for us.”

Stiles just shook his head, “Jackson, even if Derek hadn’t of moved here, we would have broken up, eventually. Maybe I love him; maybe I don’t, but either way... I’m not yours anymore. I’m sorry.” He didn’t even blink to see his reaction, before he headed back to Derek.

 

 

“You’re sneaky,” Derek said to Stiles when they were in his car after school.

“What? Why?” he asked, laughing.

“You went to see Jackson at lunch.”

Stiles froze, and he could only stare at Derek, wondering if he was angry.

He took his eyes off the road for a second to glace at Stiles’ face, and then he smiled, “I’m not mad.” He grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“Who told you?”

“Scott saw you in the parking lot. He asked me what you were doing talking to Jackson. Now stop looking all guilty. I trust you, Stiles. Promise,” he said, pulling him closer, across the middle section of the car, and wrapped one arm around him.

“Your house?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” He said, turning onto his street. 

“Uh-un.” Stiles mumbled, nestling his face into Derek’s shoulder sleepily.

 

They pretended to do homework for an hour or so before they ended up curled up on the couch in each other’s arms. Stiles was nodding off, his head lolling on Derek’s chest, when the door opened.

Derek jumped, his arms tightening painfully around Stiles’ middle before he sat up. Stiles sat back on the couch as he rose to his feet.

“What’s wrong?”

Derek just held up a hand, a knowing frown on his face. A few seconds later, there was a shout from the front door.

_“DEREK!”_

He smiled bitterly, “Be right back, stay here.”

Stiles watched him walk into the other room with narrowed eyes, but did as he asked and stayed seated.

He could hear muffled voices, one low and angry, the other, Derek’s, was calm but insistent. A door slammed, and then it was quiet.

Stiles waited for another few minutes before rising to his feet, “Derek?”

He made his way into the other room, and jumped when he came face to face with Peter.

“Holy fuuu-uun, oh my God,” Stiles gasped, hand on his heart.

 Peter smiled at him knowingly, “Hello, Stiles.”

“Where’s Derek?”

“He’ll be back soon,” he just stood there, smiling at Stiles with that unnerving smile.

“Okay.”

“So how did you and my nephew meet?” he asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Uh, history class.”

“Ah,” and then there was more uncomfortable silence.

It hit Stiles that if he ever wanted to get any information out of Peter without Derek around, this would be his only chance.

“Hey, uh, what’s your last name?”

Peter’s smile turned quizzical, but he replied, “Hale. Same as Derek’s.”

“So, not Kayne?”

“No,” his eyes flashed, “not Kayne.”

He looked like he was about to say something else, but then Derek walked in the door, and his chance was over.

 

Derek drove Stiles home about an hour later. He could tell that something was off, that he was upset, and he wouldn’t leave it alone.

“Did I do something? Or... just tell me what’s wrong,” He demanded once they were in the driveway.

“Nothing,” Stiles insisted, “Can I go in now?”

“No. You’re not leaving this car until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“ _Nothing._ I’m tired. I’m sorry, but that’s _all_ ,” he said for the millionth time.

Derek just shook his head. “You’re gonna have to tell me what’s wrong eventually,” He mumbled, staring in front of him.

“Fine. Bye.” Stiles got out of the car without another word.

“How was your day?” Claudia asked from the living room as he walked in.

“Fine,” he muttered.

She frowned at him, and got up from the chair to move towards him.

“Genim, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I-” he looked in her eyes, saw the caring and concern in them, and sighed, “I just don’t want to talk about it right now. Maybe some other time, okay?”

She smiled sadly at him, but nodded, “Okay, sweetheart.” She kissed his forehead, and for once, Stiles let her.

He couldn’t sleep that night. He just couldn’t put it together. Nothing that he came up with made any sense. The only logical thing he could think of was that they were in the witness protection program, but that still didn’t explain why Derek hates his uncle so much. There was just nothing else. Absolutely nothing he could imagine. There was no question; he _had_ to talk to Derek about it.

 

There was no to talk to him about it until that Saturday. Stiles asked him to come over while John and Claudia were in the next town over with some friends. He was still acting cold because he knew there was something going on that Stiles wouldn’t talk to him about.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted him as he opened the door.

Derek half smiled and nodded, stepping inside and kissing him on the cheek, “You wanted to talk?” he asked.

“Yeah... come in here,” he took his hand and led him into the living room.

He sat down on the couch, and Derek sat a few feet away.

Stiles sighed, “I’m really sorry that I’ve been acting distant lately.” He raised his eyebrows, “But I have a reason.”

Derek ran his fingers through his hair and replied, “And that would be?”

“Something is going on between you and your uncle. You’re _scared_ of him, and I needed to know why. You two have some weird secret, and I think it has something to do with that newspaper article that’s in your bedside table.”

His eyes grew dark, “I told you we’re done talking about that.”

“We never talked about it in the first place!”

“W-well... why were you looking in there anyway?! That’s none of your business, Stiles,” he said as he stood up off the couch, his fists clenching.

“I know, and I’m sorry I snooped. But you need to start trusting me.”

“Stiles. My past is _none_ of your business. I can’t believe you won’t drop this. Stop trying to figure me out. It’s a path you _really_ don’t want to go down,” He said, but it almost sounded like a threat.

“Derek, you know practically _everything_ about me. I don’t keep anything from you! What is so bad that you block me out whenever it comes up?” Stiles asked, his voice rising

“Everything, huh?” he leaned down to get in Stiles’ face, “Then tell me, what exactly did your first foster father do to you?”

Stiles face heated. “Asshole,” he spat.

“Just stay out of it,” Derek said, his voice hard and his eyes cold.

Stiles got up, and stood in front of him, “I’m tired of this. If you don’t trust me enough to tell me why the hell you run all hot and cold... then maybe you should just leave.” He said it as an empty threat. He didn’t mean it, but damn it, he was hurt.

But the way Derek stared at him, like Stiles was already a stranger, it killed him a little. He sighed and whispered, “Maybe.”

Derek turned away abruptly, and walked out the door.


	13. Rumors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but, hey, what are you gonnna do? :b maybe a longer one up later tonight. thanks for reading guys(:

 

“I still don’t understand what happened,” Scott whined in the parking lot on Monday. They were gathered around Allison’s car before school. She had noticed the dark rings under Stiles’ eyes, and pestered him about it until he told both her and Scott the whole story.

Well. Not the _whole_ story.

“We broke up. What’s not to understand?”

“I just don’t get it.”

“This conversation is not helping me forget. Can we move on?” he asked, hopping onto the hood of Allison’s car.

“Sure, but just... one more thing,” he started cautiously. Stiles raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue, “Please don’t tell me you’re not going to go running back to Jackson. Please tell me you’re done with that dirt bag.”

He just shrugged, “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Scott. I just want to forget Derek ever happened,” he mumbled, crossing his arms.

Allison patted his thigh sympathetically, “Boys are assholes, sweetie.”

They both ignored Scott’s offended _‘Hey!’_

“He’s not, though. He was different,” Stiles mumbled, but then shook his head, “No, no. You’re right. He’s an asshole. And I don’t care.”

Scott snorted, “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

Allison shushed him, and Stiles pretended he didn’t hear.

 

Derek was at school, Stiles knew that much. Gossip about their breakup was buzzing around, and he being on the market was apparently the greatest fucking thing to ever happen in this school.

Stiles was able to avoid him at his locker, and in the hallways, but the day seemed to speed by until history came around.

He slowly walked into the classroom, searching for his face. And he found it. Back in his old seat next to Matt. He was leaning towards him, smiling like Matt was some blessing to mankind. Jealously flared up inside of Stiles, and his cheeks grew hot as he took his seat.

Derek didn’t ever glance his way as he sat down. He heard Matt chuckle and whisper something, and Stiles ground his teeth together. He immediately started reading his textbook, trying to do _anything_ to distract himself from Derek.

History went by slowly; every second that ticked by seemed like an hour. When the bell rang, Stiles was one of the last ones out of his seat, trying to avoid being near him at all.

 

“You need to perk up,” Scott complained that day after school.

“I know.”

“I know you really liked Derek. I think you two are being stupid! But it happened, and I want my best friend back,” he said, emphasizing his statement with his famous puppy dog stare.

“I know,” Stiles sighed.

“What can I do to help you get over it?”

“I am over it. Completely over it.”

Scott gave him an understanding smile, “I know you are, buddy. I know.”

 

One week went by with no encounters with Derek. He and Matt were practically a couple now; they were always together, and they were all over each other. And Stiles _didn’t care_. Because he was over it. There was _no_ part of him that wasn’t over it. He was able to busy himself by hanging out with Scott and doing more homework than he’d ever bothered doing. He worked hard to keep _him_ off of his mind by any means possible.

 

“Hey, Allison, you seen Scott?” Stiles asked, calling across the parking lot to her.

She shook her head and replied, “He texted me this morning, he’s sick.”

“Great,” he mumbled under his breath, before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked inside.

He tried to go throughout the day speaking as little as possible. It was harder without Scott to preoccupy him. People had begun to look at him with pity, and if there was one thing that Stiles hated, it was pity. He was able to avoid talking to anyone until lunch.

 

“Hey, baby.”

Stiles cringed. He turned around to see Jackson standing behind him, grinning.

“What?” he ground out as he glared at him.

“Stop being so cold, Stiles. What do you want me to say? I’m sorry for being a douche.”

“I’m sure you are. But, honestly, I don’t really want anything to do with you,” he tried to walk away, but Jackson stepped in front of him.

“So why’d you and Derek break up, huh? Did ya miss me?” he moved closer to Stiles, and put his hand on the small of his back.

Stiles scowled and pushed him away, his eyes spitting fire at him. “Back off Jackson. I mean it, stay away from me,” he warned as he walked away.

                         

Stiles had absolutely no idea how he was getting home. He’d have to walk. Not that he hadn’t before, but the dark clouds that circled Beacon Hills did not look promising. So he put his hood up, and made his way through the parking lot. He had almost made it to the sidewalk when an arm snaked around his waist and pulled him to a halt.

“Jackson!” he shouted, struggling until he broke free and turned to glare at him.

He just gave a laidback grin, and moved closer, “C’mon, admit it, baby. You want me back

“Not a chance. Now fuck off!” he yelled as he shoved him away.

“Calm down,” Jackson persisted, looping a finger through Stiles’ belt loop and jerking him closer.

“He said to back the hell off.”

Both their heads snapped in the direction of the voice. Stiles’ heart skipped a beat when he saw Derek, staring Jackson down about three feet away. He never made eye contact with him, just kept glaring at Jackson.

“Mind your own business,” Jackson said, glancing at him momentarily, before returning his gaze to Stiles.

“I don’t think you heard me,” Derek growled threateningly, taking a step toward them.

He saw Jackson’s eyes narrow, and his jaw set. Fuck, he knew that look.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be me-”

Stiles interrupted Jackson. “Thanks, Derek, but I got this,” he said, glancing between the two.

Derek’s eyes flicked to him, and stayed there for what seemed like an eternity. He nodded slowly, and backed away. Stiles’ eyes followed him for a moment, before he looked back at Jackson.

His mind was still reeling as he walked home, after successfully shoving Jackson off of him and making his escape. Why did Derek defend him to Jackson?

  _It doesn’t matter,_ he told himself, _because you’re over him._

He heard a car slow, and pull to the curb beside him. He refused to look at it directly, but he could that it was a black Camaro.  He paused, and finally glanced at Derek getting out of the car. They made eye contact before he looked away, opened the passenger door for Matt. He looked at Stiles, laughed, and led Derek to the door of his house. Stiles just continued walking, fighting the tears that came to his eyes. The sky chose that moment to open up, and rain started pouring down

“It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled to himself, and wiped his eyes, “He’s not worth it.”

And He didn’t believe a fucking word of it.

 

 

Weeks passed, as Stiles seemed to fall permanently under the radar. He talked to no one other than Scott and Allison, and occasionally Jackson when he had to tell him off. Derek’s and Matt’s relationship was all over school. It was one of those ‘breakup every other week’ things that drove Stiles up a wall. He desperately tried not to listen to the gossip that clouded around the two, but since it seemed to be the main topic of conversation for _everyone_ , it was hard to avoid.

“I heard Derek forgot they had a date, or something. It was their one month, I guess. That’s why Matt isn’t talking to him,” said a girl who sat behind Stiles in study hall.

He attempted to block her out and focus on homework. It wasn’t working. 

 “That’s not what I heard! _I_ heard that Matt got caught flirting with another guy, and they got into a big fight.”

“I doubt that. He’s like _obsessed_ with Derek. If anyone had one foot out the door in that relationship, it’s Derek.”

“You’re probably right. Anyway, it’s no secret to anyone that he still has feelings for... ya know.” Their eyes burned a hole in Stiles’ back.

He knew he shouldn’t believe any of the rumors. But a small part of him still wished that this particular one was true. Stiles couldn’t kid himself anymore. He missed Derek. He was angry as hell at him... but he still fucking missed him. 


	14. Partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THIS! 
> 
> This chapter may seem familiar. That's because it is the exact same, exceeeept there's a new bit at the end. As I was editing, I realized that I'd left the end to this one out. So here ya go, sorry about the mess up!

“Where are you guys going again?” Stiles asked Claudia and John on Friday morning.

“A good friend of ours is getting married, and she wants Claudia to come and help with... I don’t know. Wedding things,” John muttered distastefully, putting his suitcase in the trunk of the car.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come, sweetheart?” Claudia asked from the doorway.

Stiles didn’t even cringe when she called him ‘sweetheart’, anymore. Claudia had noticed, too, and had taken advantage of that by never calling him anything else anymore. Hell, at least she didn’t insist on calling him ‘Genim’ anymore.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I need some alone time,” he lied. He hated alone time. It seemed that all he’d had was alone time for the past month and a half.

“Okay then, buddy. We’ll be back late Sunday night, okay?” John said, getting out his keys.

“Got it. See ya then,” he said with a small smile, waving as they got in the car.

                         

It was only a half day at school, so no one paid any attention in class.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you this weekend? We could have a Doctor Who marathon, play COD?”

“You hate Doctor Who.”

“Yeah, but you don’t.”

Stiles chuckled, “No, Scott, I’ll be okay on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll be fine,” he assured him, but Scott still pursed his lips.

 

“I know we have a shortened schedule, but I thought today would be perfect to get started on the topics for the semester project,” was how Mr. Lane started class.

A collective groan echoed through the students.

“It _is_ a partner project.”

Stiles couldn’t help but flinch when Matt smiled wide and looked straight at Derek.

“But I will be choosing the groups.”

Another groan.

“Okay, here we go. Matt and Katie. Travis and Ally. Derek and Stiles.” 

He should have seen it coming. Of course with my luck Stiles would get paired with him. He refused bring his eyes up, but he could feel Derek staring at him.

                         

He walked out of as quick as he could, but he heard footsteps rushing to catch up with him.

“Stiles,” Derek called.

He spun around, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“I want make this as painless as possible,” Derek said, his voice hoarse.

“Good luck with that,” he spat out, “Just email me your ideas for the project, and I’ll divide work. We can do this with as little as interaction as possible.”

“God, you’re honestly that mad at me?” he asked, and it came out raw and hurt.

Finally, Stiles looked up at him, his eyes spitting fire.

“Furious,” he whispered, and stomped away.

                         

Okay, so Stiles wasn’t _that_ mad at him. He’d moved on to pitifully missing him at that point. But what would it hurt to make Derek think that? He deserved to go through a little hell.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. Stiles was thankful full when the ball rang at noon, and he met up with Scott to get a ride home.

“You two got paired together? That sucks” he sympathized.

Stiles simply shrugged, “I’m going try to get through it as quickly as possible.”

“That’s likely.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but damn it, he agreed with Scott.

 

Stiles came home to an empty house. Not that empty was bad. He liked quiet. Or, he _used_ to like quiet. He had gotten so used to someone always being there. Be it John, or Claudia, or even Derek. His thoughts were too loud inside his head. It’s like they were _screaming_ at him. He almost took out his phone to call Scott to come over. He didn’t though. Stiles ended up changing into his pajamas early, and decided to have that Doctor Who marathon all by himself.

                         

Stiles dozed off around eleven. He was awoken by the sound of a loud car driving past. He rubbed his eyes and looked around, confused for a moment before he realized he was still in the living room. Deciding that he was much too tired to even imagine getting up, he just closed his eyes again.

Not five minutes later, the loud car went by again. He groaned and sat up, yawning. He went to the window, and peeked through the shades. Sure enough, there was a car sitting out in front of the house. It sat there, lights on and motor running for a minute, before whoever was in it took out the keys.

Stiles waited for them to get out of the car, but they just sat there. He looked more closely to see if the car looked familiar. He _did_ recognize it from somewhere, but he was sure it wasn’t one of Claudia or John’s friends. Too fancy. It was silver, and really clean, like it was just taken from the lot. Stiles tried to think of anyone he knew with a silver car.

 “Huh,” he commented tiredly, still half asleep. He shook it off and went up the stairs to his bedroom, and closed the door.

 

 

Stiles woke up late on Saturday, around eleven. He had two missed calls, one from Scott, and one from John.

He dialed John’s number first.

_“Sorry I couldn’t take your call. Leave a message at the beep.”_

“Hey, it’s me. I just woke up, so, sorry I missed your call. Just, call me back when you get this. Okay, bye.”

He hung up, and then immediately called Scott. When he picked up, Stiles heard talking and laughter in the background.

_“Hey, Stiles.”_

“Hey, you called?”

 _“I did? Oh, sorry, must of butt-dialed you. Ha, sorry. What? No, Isaac, its Stiles,”_ then the noise and the laughter got so loud on the other end Stiles hung up. 

He sighed. Scott was out there having fun, and Stiles was at home. Alone. The saddest part was that, lately, Stiles wanted it that way.

Scott ended up calling again about two, and came over to play video games.

He offered, again, to come and stay with Stiles. He refused, again, and said that he like being alone sometimes. Scott sighed, because he knew that Stiles was lying.

“I’m worried about you, Stiles. I think you miss Derek more than your letting on. And I don’t blame you. I just think you need someone around,” he said.

Stiles shrugged, “I’m fine, Scott. Honestly. I’m just really tired. There was a really loud car last night that kept waking me up. I’m _fine_.”

Scott bit the inside of his check, but nodded, “If you say so. But if you need anything tonight, call me.” 

 

Stiles heard the car again. And again. Finally, he pulled back the shades to see what was going on. The same silver car from the night before passed by again, and one more time before parking right in front of the house. And again all the lights shut off, but no one got out.

“What the hell,” he muttered, squinting. He desperately tried to remember where he knew that car from. Realization struck, and he grabbed his phone and dialed Derek’s number.

 _“I thought you were mad at me,”_ was his greeting.

“Livid,” he replied icily, before he could stop himself.

 _“Then what do you want this late?”_ Derek asked angrily.

“Your uncle’s car. It’s silver, yeah? What’s the license plate?”

_“Wha-why?”_

“Just tell me,” Stiles demanded.

He listed it off for him, and then asked again, _“Why?”_

Stiles took a deep, shaky breath, “Your uncle’s car has been sitting in front of my house for about two hours tonight, and it was there all night last night, too.”

He heard Derek’s sharp intake of breath.

_“Don’t move a muscle. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”_

“Derek, what the hell is going on?” but he had already hung up.

Fear welled up inside of him. The urgency in Derek’s voice had sent a chill through his body, even though he had no fucking idea what was happening.

There was a rapid knock on the door about five minutes later. Derek flew in as soon as Stiles opened the door. Then he turned back around, shut the door and locked it. Despite whatever the hell was going on, just seeing him made Stiles’ heart beat quicker.

“Derek, what’s-” but he blew past him to the living room where he looked out the window to the car, then shut the shades.

“De-” but he held a hand, silencing him, and went to lock the back doors.

“Derek!” Stiles shouted, and he stopped in his tracks to stare at him.

“What is going on?” he asked, saying each word slowly and angrily.

“Where are Claudia and John?” he asked.

“Gone for the weekend. Why are you here? What is your uncle doing outside my house?” His voice rose with every word.

 “Calm down,” he insisted.

“Not fucking likely!”  He shouted, taking a step towards him.

Derek sighed, and put his hands on Stiles’ shoulders, but he shrugged them off.

“I know you hate me, but-”

 “Is that what you think?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at him. Stiles was confused and hurt, of course, but he could _never_ hate Derek. Up until recently, he had been almost positive that he loved him.

“You said you were furious with me,” he sounded cold and resigned.

“Yeah. I think you were being an asshole. I think you were acting like an idiot. I don’t hate you.”

“I’m sorry. I really am,” he said softly, ad bowed his head.

“Why, Derek? What the fuck even happened? We got in a fight and you bailed. Did we even break up before you went off with Matt?”

“So now you care all of a sudden?” he shouted, looking as Stiles with accusing eyes.

Stiles scoffed and looked up at him, “All of a sudden? What the hell are you trying to say?”

“You don’t talk to me for over a month. You act like we never meant _anything_ to you, and now you’re blaming me for everything!?” he shouted, taking an angry step towards him, forcing Stiles to back up against the wall.

“ _I_ didn’t talk to _you_? You’re the one who waited all of, what? _Two days_ before going out with Matt! We didn’t even break up!” he yelled, shoving Derek away from him.

“Fuck, forget Matt, he was a mistake. Why do you even care!?”

“Because! Because I don’t even know what happened between us! I’ve been trying to figure out what I did that was so bad that you just ditched me. Because I thought I loved you, but now-”

His eyes widened, and Stiles froze when he realized what he’d just said.

“Wait, what? Y-You love me?” his eyes were wide and unsure, but he sounded hopeful.

“I don’t know. I _thought_ I did.”

Suddenly Derek’s lips were on his, his hands wrapped around his back as he held him close.

“I’m sorry, so sorry. Please forgive me, I love you,” he whispered against Stiles’ mouth, before he sucked on his lower lip, causing Stiles to groan and arch against him.

He was temporarily lost in the heat and desire as Derek slipped a hand under Stiles’ shirt.  There was no ulterior motives in his touch, he only wanted to feel, like he was afraid that Stiles was just a dream.

Stiles put his hands on Derek’s chest, and gently pushed him away.

“Der, I don’t understand,” he panted, his head dropping to Derek’s shoulder as he caught his breath.

Derek’s lips ghosted over the top of his head, his hands drifting across Stiles’ chest as he said, “Stiles, I was so stupid,” another press of his mouth against Stiles’ hair, “I’m so sorry, and there’s no way I could ever make it up to you,” he gripped his hair, pulling his head up to look him in the eyes, “But please, please forgive me. I miss you so much.”

Stiles knew it was pathetic, after all that Derek had put him through, but all he wanted to do was hold him and never let go. Even under these weird as fuck circumstances.

“Tell me what’s going on. Please,” he begged.

Derek sighed, and averted his eyes, “Baby, just trust me on this one. I _will_ tell you. I swear... but not now. I’m just doing what’s best for you.” His arm tightened around Stiles’ waist.

“Derek, you’re here at midnight. Your uncle is sitting outside, and has been watching me for two nights. I _need_ to know what’s going on. Because it’s not just the tension between you two now. Now it includes me.”

“You _will_ know, eventually. I don’t want to fight again, Stiles. Just give me time to work things out, and then I’ll tell you.”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Derek silenced him by pulling his close and leaning in to kiss him again.

 

 

 “When are your parents getting back?” Derek asked later that night. They lay on the couch, limbs tangled.

“Late tomorrow night,” Stiles mumbled, resting his head in the crook of his neck.

“If you don’t mind, and even if you do, I think I’m going to stick around.”

Stiles pulled back to look at him, and raised his eyebrows.

“Please, trust me,” he ran a hand down his back.

“Fine, I trust you. But this better be explained to me. Soon.”

“Okay,” he whispered with a smile, hugging him tighter, “God, I’ve missed you.”

“Good.”

Derek chuckled, and brought one of Stiles’ hands to his mouth. His lips brushed across the knuckles before he said, “It’s one o’ clock in the morning. You should go to bed.”

“Okay… will you be coming with me?”

Derek hesitated.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he said finally, but Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be stupid. C’mon.”

He led Derek up to his room, scanning the floor for anything embarrassing before he closed the door behind them

As they both settled in bed, with Derek plastered against his back, his face pressed against his neck, Stiles thought about the entire situation.

What the _hell_ was so bad that Derek felt he had to stay the night? His uncle was dangerous, that was obvious. But now it wasn’t just Derek that was afraid of him, it was _Stiles._

His mind whirled with the possibilities, each more terrifying then the next. Fear slowly grew inside of him. He immediately thought to seek comfort in Derek, but he knew Derek would be no help in calming him down, since he wouldn’t even tell Stiles what was happening.

Stiles fidgeted for a few minutes before Derek gripped his hips to still him.

 “Go to sleep,” he kissed Stiles’ temple, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he murmured, and finally fell asleep.

                         

Stiles’ eyes flew open.

Derek was shaking him softly.

“Stiles, wake up. What’s wrong?”

He sat up swiftly, and closed his eyes when his head went fuzzy.

“You were screaming in your sleep,” he said breathlessly.

“I was having a nightmare,” he whispered, as he wiped away a bead of sweat running down his forehead.

“About?” He sat on the bed next to him, and took his hand.

“Peter. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“You just scared me, that’s all,” he cupped Stiles’ jaw, “I won’t let him get to you, baby.”

“Promise?”

Derek pressed a hard kiss his lips. He tucked Stiles’ head under his chin, and he barely caught the words mumbled against his hair.

_“On my life.”_


	15. Trust No One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG. This was GONNA be the last chapter, but I broke it up so there's one more. Just one.  
> Also, check the tags, I added some.  
> Warnings at the end.

 

 

 

Stiles woke up early that morning. Derek’s face was buried in his neck, his arms tight around his waist. It felt good- natural- for him to be this close. He laid still for a moment, just breathing in the scent of him. Then, very gently, Stiles unwound Derek’s arms from his waist, and got off the bed quietly. With one last look at Derek, he opened the door and crept down to the kitchen.

 He couldn’t help but look out the window to make sure that Peter’s car was gone. He lifted the blinds, and when he saw the empty street Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. His hands were shaking as he drew them back, but he curled his fingers into a fist, his blunt nails biting into his palm. He was being stupid. Everything was fine. Derek was here.

With that thought, Stiles was able to let out a sigh of relief, and he went to start breakfast.

                         

Stiles sat on the counter, waiting for the biscuits to be ready, when he heard a quick, heavy footsteps on the stairs. Derek burst into the kitchen, and then slowed when he saw Stiles.

“Oh, there you are,” he breathed, before he pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. He was still shirtless, with his pajama pants riding low on his hips.

Stiles realized he was staring, and snapped his eyes back to Derek’s smug face. “ _Yeaaah_. Where did you think I was?” he asked, unable to help himself as he reached out his hand and ran his fingers across Derek’s stomach.

“Never mind. What’re you making?” He leaned into Stiles’ caress, effectively distracting him by mouthing at his neck.

“Fu- um, biscuits and gravy. Sh-shit, keep doing that,” he moaned.

Derek chuckled against his shoulder, and his hands moved to grip Stiles’ waist.  

“I’m going to need you to do me a favor,” he whispered against Stiles’ mouth, before kissing him long and hard.

“Mmmhm?”

Stiles whined, rather pathetically as Derek leaned away. “I need you to _stay in this house_ ,” he said, drawing out each word.

“Why?” Stiles jumped off the counter as the oven beeped.

 “Because I need to go somewhere, and I would feel much better if you stayed put. So stay here.”

Stiles scoffed and spun around to face him, “Sorry, but I don’t think that’s happening unless I know what I’m hiding from.”

“You’re not _hiding_ from anything, Stiles. You’re just doing what I asked,” his eyes were hard and unyielding.

“I don’t think so, Sourface. Here’s the deal. I’ll do as you say, if you tell me what this whole slumber party was about.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to hope you have enough sense to take my advice.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, “From what I heard, that wasn’t advice. It was an order.”

Derek raised his eyebrows at him, and his lips pursed into a thin line, “Stiles, I’m serious. I’m just trying to do what’s best for you, but now is not the time for you to know everything, okay

“Fuck. Fine. Where are you going?” he asked, sighing.

Derek remained silent, and shot him a sideways glance.

“Of fucking course. Another file going in the ‘Secrets to Keep from Stiles’ folder,” he grumbled, forgetting breakfast and ambling into the living room.

“C’mon baby, don’t,” He called after Stiles, as he followed at a safe distance.

“I can’t do this, Derek! I feel like I’m a part of something big, and dangerous, and I have no idea what it is. I’m fucking s-scared,” his voice cracked, and Stiles bit his lip before he could admit to anything else that made him feel weak.

Derek looked at him with this sad face like he’d fucking _broke_ Stiles, and fuck that Stiles wasn’t fragile.

“I hate putting you through this,” he mumbled after a few moments of tense silence, “If I could go back and un-do everything, I would.”

Stiles blanched, Derek’s words physically knocking him back a few steps. Hurt spread through his chest.

“Everything?” he managed to choke out.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he refused to look Stiles in the eye.

Stiles’ stomach dropped at Derek’s jerky nod.

“Get out.”

“Stiles, you can’t understand-”

“Get the _fuck out of my house_ ,” he hissed, tears burning in his eyes as he shoved Derek.

His face crumbled as if he had a right to feel betrayed, and shuffled towards the door. He paused when he passed him, and Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as Derek pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“I’m sorry about all this Stiles,” he whispered, knocking their heads together gently, “but I’m going to fix it. I will.”

And then Derek left, and Stiles was once again alone.

 

Stiles chest fucking _ached_ the rest of the day. The fact that Derek wished he could un-do _everything-_ the fucking Cheesy Hilltop with all the stars, the kisses, Stiles bared his _soul_ to this guy- it burned him like nothing before.

He stayed in the house like Derek asked, and he’d never felt more trapped in his life. Pacing in the living room only held so much entertainment before Stiles was flopping on the couch with a pitiful groan.

If he was going to have to suffer through whatever game Derek was playing, he didn’t God damn well have to be conscious for it. With that thought, he forced his mind to slow down, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

                         

When Stiles eyes eased open, the sky was dotted with stars. He yawned, his outstretched hand knocking his phone to the floor with a thud. He retrieved it with a sleepy moan and checked the screen.

 _Holy fuck_ \- thirty-seven missed calls and twelve texts. Most of the calls were from Claudia or Scott, but a few were from people Stiles vaguely knew from school. He checked his texts with a furrowed brow.

Seven were from Scott.

_oh my god, stiles._

_stiles please answer_

_should i come over?_

_ok you probably want to be alone rite now but please at least tell me ur ok_

_fuck at least tell me youre wit derek or something_

_you dont have to do this alone dude_

_im here for you._

“What the hell?” he muttered, and flipped to the other texts, from Derek.

_Make sure you lock the door._

_Fuck, Stiles answer me, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant earlier_

_Jesus Christ. Stiles you better have locked the goddamn door._

_Stiles… I am so sorry._

The first three were all from before noon, while the last and all of Scott’s came from about three.

Stiles was shaking and he didn’t know why, but he hit redial on one of his many missed calls from Claudia.

_“Oh, Genim, thank God.”_

“What’s going on?”

 _“What? Sweetheart, what have you been_ doing _?”_

“I just woke up from a nap,” his chest was constricting painfully, “Claudia what’s wrong?”

She sniffed, and _oh my God_ , Claudia was _crying_ and that made his chest tighten ever more, _“Oh, honey.”_ Her sobs got louder until there was some movement on the other end, and this time, it was John’s gruff voice on the other end.

 _“Genim, I’m so sorry_. _”_

“What the hell is going on?” Stiles hated the quiver in his voice, but he was too scared to dwell on it.

 _“Oh, my boy,”_ he sighed, _“it’s, it’s Jackson. He was in a car crash. Genim… he didn’t make it.”_

The blood in his veins turned to ice.

“A-Are you sure?” his voice broke on the last syllable, and he bit his lip so hard to keep from crying that he tasted blood.

_“It was all over the news, that’s why we thought you knew.”_

Stiles tried to reply, but words tangled in his throat and his head started to spin and all that would come out was a choked wheezing.

_“Do you want us to come home?”_

“Yeah,” he gasped out, squeezing his eyes shut as the world began to spin, “I need you guys.”

The phone fell from his hand after that, and he buried his face in his hands.

He could have been crying for hours, maybe only seconds, but it was far too soon when he heard a loud bang from upstairs.

He jumped and held his breath. He thought he may have imagined it for a second before another clatter sounded through the empty house.  He rose to his feet, and simply stared at the staircase, willing himself to move towards it.

 _It was your imagination. And if you don’t go prove it to yourself now, you’re going to be terrified all night_.

He took a deep breath, and moved a few steps forward. His legs were heavy, like dead weight, but he pressed on. Somehow, he managed to reach the top of the staircase. The sound could have come from anywhere, but the overwhelming dread in the pit of his stomach told him to check his room. He took a few tentative steps into the room, and found nothing. He was about to let out a sigh of relief when he heard the footsteps.

 If he hadn’t have been holding his breath, he would have missed them.

He turned towards his doorway; his heart was beating so loudly there was no doubt that whoever was in the house could hear it loud and clear.

“Hello, Stiles,” the unsettlingly familiar voice sent a chill down his spine. Derek’s uncle stepped out of the hallway and into his room, a disconcertingly gleeful smile across his face.

Stiles opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Oh no, don’t speak. There are no words,” Peter whispered, pulling out a knife from his pocket.

“Oh God,” he choked out, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage.

Peter’s face contorted into a terrifying snarl, and he lunged at Stiles.

He screamed, and dove towards the door. The knife narrowly missed his leg, as his feet touched the ground, and he bolted for the front door. Peter’s hand wrapped around his foot, and he tripped down the stairs with a yelp.

There wasn’t even any pain, even though Stiles was sure that he heard something crack. He landed on his side, and fire shot through his body. He opened hismouth in a silent scream, before struggling to his feet, and limping towards the door. But Peter was suddenly there, pushing him against the wall.

“You should have left us well enough alone, son,” his voice had something in it that sounded like regret. But Stiles knew better.

He switched into adrenalin mode, and struggled wildly in Peter’s grip, his arms and legs flailing haphazardly. Something must have hit its mark because his death grip loosened, and Stiles was able to squirm free.

He tried bolting for the door again, but Peter was somehow there, blocking his path. He grabbed Stiles’ arm and threw him into the living room. He hit the side table with a crack. The vase that had been sitting on the table shattered, and he covered his face as he fell to the floor, landing amongst the jagged glass. Shards of glass stung his arms and stomach. He attempted to get up, only to push the pieces deeper into his skin. He moaned, but still tried to rise.

Peter stepped on his back, forcing Stiles back own, but Stiles still tried desperately to think of a way out of this.

“Why?” he asked him, his voice coming out as a terrified squeak.

He felt him hesitate, his weight shifting away from his back for a split second before returning.

“I didn’t know anything. Derek never told me _any_ thing,” he whispered, his voice small and broken.

Peter kneeled down on his back, and Stiles felt a shard of glass rip through the skin right below his shoulder, across his collarbone.

He cried out, but Peter just knelt down until his mouth was right next to Stiles’ ear.

“How do you think I’ve made it for so long?Trust _n_ _othing._ Trust _no one_. Not even that Jackson boy; he was no help. Just another casualty. All because of you," he said casually, as if they were sitting on the couch, chatting as old friends. Then he sighed, almost mournfully, “I do feel bad about having to kill you, though. I’ve never seen the boy so happy.”

Stiles knew the end was coming then. He heard the fabric against fabric as Peter rose his hand in the air to strike him. He closed his eyes, his strength to fight gone. He could barely move through the pain radiating from everywhere on his body.

 _I love you, Derek,_ he thought miserably, and braced himself for pain.

There was a rush of air above him, and then the pressure disappeared from his back. Something hit the floor, and Stiles’ opened his eyes to see Derek pinning his uncle to the ground, the knife he had been planning to use scattered on the floor a few feet away.

“Call the cops!” Derek shouted at him, the strain of keeping his uncle down showing clear on his face.

He got to his knees, tried to ignore the nausea that threatened to overtake him as I saw the pool of blood. _Stiles’_ blood.

He stumbled- well, more _crawled_ , really- to his cell phone on the couch. He dialed 9-1-1, but passed out before he could press send.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> violence and blood  
> character death, but it's not graphic or even described at all, just mentioned.


	16. Almost Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys, this is the last chapter): I'm really grateful for all the comments and kudos and everything you guys have been wonderful:D

Stiles woke up in a hospital room. He had an IV in his arm, and a few other cords and wires attached to his fingers that lead to big, scary machines. Bandages covered the jagged cuts on his arms, and when he squirmed he felt a stab of pain from his shoulder. He hurt like hell. But he was alive.

The doctor’s said it was four cracked rib, five stitches on his forehead, fifty-some stitches on a major cut across his collar bone, and a broken ankle.

Lucky, is what the nurses called it, when they came to check up on him.

But they didn’t have a clue.

 

The doctors wouldn’t let anyone come in for a long time, no matter how many times Stiles whined. He stayed somewhat patient while they poked and prodded, and while they asked him what day is it, who is the president- _Sunday and Obama, I’m not concussed you pretentious dick_ \- and finally _finally_ Claudia and John were allowed in.

Claudia ran straight to the bed, wrapping Stiles in her arms as gently as she could. John lingered by the doorway, his eyes tired and wary but so, so relieved.

Stiles held Claudia as she cried, as she gripped at his hospital gown and told him that they loved him. He didn’t even fight the tears that started to cloud his eyes as he whispered, “I love you guys, too.”

She eventually calmed down enough to stop gripping him so tightly, and John walked up, a hand slipping to the back of his head and squeezing.

“Glad you’re okay, buddy,” his voice was rough, like he’d been crying, and fuck if that didn’t make Stiles’ tears fall faster.

“What,” he cleared his throat when it tightened, “What happened?”

“They don’t know, sweetheart. There was no sign of forced entry. He just,” Claudia was crying again by this point, “walked in.”

John wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, and pressed a hard kiss to the side of her head.

“But… I never called the police.”

John answered that one, “Scott. Said he was worried about you and decided to swing by to make sure you were okay. And he found you and Peter and, and,”

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, “is he okay?”

Both of their eyes turned steely.

“He’s fine,” John said with gritted teeth.

“It’s not his fault.”

“Stiles, you don’t know-”

“It’s _not his fault_.”

They were all silent for a moment, the beeping of the heart monitor the only sound in the room.

“John are, are you working this case?” he asked finally.

He shook his head ruefully, “Apparently, I’m too emotionally invested.”

Stiles nodded, biting his lip. “It’s just… Jackson. It was Peter, somehow. Peter killed Jackson.”

John looked like he wanted to argue, but halted when he saw the look in Stiles’ eyes.

“I’ll make some calls, Genim,” and with that, he kissed Claudia once more, and squeezed his head again before walking out of the room, cell phone in hand.

He and Claudia sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, as she stroked his arm absentmindedly, like she was making sure he was real.

He covered her hand with his, “Claudia, about Derek… I really need to know he’s okay.”

She pursed her lips, but nodded.

“He’s not allowed near us while the investigation is going on,” she cast a look to where John had disappeared earlier, “but just this once.” She handed him her phone, and promptly left the room.

He made a mental note to thank Claudia for the rest of his life as he dialed the familiar number.

 _“Stiles,”_ Derek sounded strained, _“I’m not supposed to be talking to you.”_

“Shut the fuck up,” his words were harsh but without any real venom.

He listened, and neither of them said a thing. They just listened to each other breath, and it was oddly healing.

“Can you tell me now?”

_“Not, fuck Stiles, not over the phone.”_

“When?” his lip trembled a little.

_“I guess… I guess whenever the investigation is over and I can see you again.”_

“Derek, that could take months.”

He sighed, _“I’m not doing this over the phone.”_

“Okay,” Stiles whispered, his fingers tightening around the phone.

 _“I love you, Stiles,”_ Derek said, and he sounded fucking _wrecked_ , but Stiles doubted he sounded much better when he choked out, “I love you, too.”

 

 

The investigation took six weeks.

Of course, Stiles learned things about Peter, and Derek, but he only listened to as little as was necessary.

But after six weeks and God knows how many court hearings, Peter was sentenced to life in prison without parole. Derek’s absence at the hearing was noticed by no one but Stiles.

Claudia and John fuss over him for a good hour before agreeing to drive him to the motel Derek had been staying at. It was another twenty minutes of hugging before Claudia would even let him get out of the car.

“Call us when you’re ready to come home,” John said through the window.

“Yeah, okay. Bye guys.”

“We love you, Genim.”

“Yeah, I- uh, love you too,” the words felt wrong on his tongue but he knew he meant it, and that, in time, he’d get used to using them.

He waved as they drove off, before turning back to the motel. Letting out a huff, he walked to Derek’s door.

He got a gruff, “Come in,” when he knocked. He pulled open the door and stepped cautiously inside.

Derek stood on the opposite end of the room, his hair wet like he’d just taken a shower, and wearing a white wife beater. He looked tired, and a little scared.

Stiles shut the door and leaned against it. He crossed his arms and just looked at Derek, drinking him in, before their eyes finally met.

“So, you want to talk.” It wasn’t a question, but Stiles nodded anyway. He moved towards Derek but he stopped him with a wave of his hand, “You stay over there. And if, by the end, you still want to, you can come over. Okay?”

He nodded again.

Derek took a deep breath, and rubbed a hand over his face before he sat on the bed with his hands clasped tightly together.

“Peter isn’t my biological uncle,” he began, his voice thick, “I met him when I was four. Before that, I had a mom, and a dad, fuck, I had a family.  I remember my older sister Laura a little bit. Cora was just a baby…” he trailed off, but recovered after a moment and cleared his throat, “He saw my parents somewhere, I don’t know where, and he followed them home. He stayed in his car until night, and then came in and just... killed everyone. But, for some reason, he decided he was going to keep me alive. I was little, so I believed all his lies about my parents leaving, how Laura and Cora went with them, and about him being my uncle. He took me in. He was great, he was, fuck, I thought he was some kind of god. But I always wondered why we had to move every other month. And I missed my parents. God, I miss them,” he pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes, and Stiles fought the urge to go to him, to wrap his arms around Derek’s shoulders and just hold him. But Derek jerked his head as if he were forcing himself into perspective.

He continued, “It wasn’t till I turned fourteen that he told me the truth. He had too, I... I found the body. So he told me. Threatened to kill me if I ever snitched. H-he was a murderer; I had to believe that he would have actually killed me... so I told no one. I never got close to anyone after that. I never made new friends, because I never wanted to get anyone involved. But then I met you,” he looked at Stiles with glassy eyes, a bittersweet smile creeping on to his face, “I knew I should stay away, and just leave you the hell alone. But I _couldn’t_. There was just something about you.”

“Peter was suspicious, of course. I had never even talked to anyone outside of school, and all of a sudden I was bringing you home, and... He thought you knew. He’s not stupid, and you aren’t exactly stealthy; he knew you were in his office that one night. He found out you’d seen the article, the one where my name’s different. Thought he had to kill you to keep you quiet. So, I took the first chance to keep you safe, which was to leave. Matt was safer; I knew I would never care about him like I cared about you. But I couldn’t do it. I missed you too much. I-I’m so sorry,” his voice broke, “I got Jackson killed, fuck, I almost got you killed because _I_ was selfish,” he rose to his feet, pointing at Stiles, “And that’s why you should walk out right now. I almost fucked up _everything,_ Stiles,” he was panting as he finished, his eyes wild.

Stiles didn’t hesitate, didn’t even fucking blink before he strode right up to Derek, locked an arm around his neck and smashed their mouths together.

Their teeth knocked together painfully, but Derek just whined, and crushed Stiles to him. He opened Stiles’ lips with his tongue, and he moaned, his free hand going to cup Derek’s jaw. They broke apart with a gasp, but neither loosened their grip or made any move to let go.

“I was serious, Stiles,” he pants, “you should get away from me.”

“I don’t care. And I swear to _Christ_ , Derek, if you don’t shut up and fuck me I’m going to do something drastic like f-”

Derek growled and pushed Stiles up against a wall before claiming his mouth once again. His hands felt imprinted on his skin as his touch ghosted over Stiles’ back and sides and shoulders.

“Fuck, I thought-” he stopped to mouth his way down Stiles’ neck, “I thought I was going to lose you.” He settled his hands on Stiles’ hips and gripped tight, pulling their lower bodies flush against each other. “There was so much blood,” his voice gave out but then Stiles pressed a desperate kiss against his lips.

“I’m fine, okay?” he grabbed Derek’s wrist, and pulled his hand up to rest over Stiles’ heart, “Feel that? I’m okay, Der, I’m here.”

Derek huffed, his hand fisting in his shirt, “I need to see you.”

With that, he yanked Stiles’ shirt off in one tug, his mouth immediately going to press gentle kisses along the pink, puffy scar along his collar bone. Meanwhile, his hands wouldn’t fucking _quit_ and he just ran the tips of his fingers across Stiles’ stomach, never giving him the pressure he wanted. But Stiles didn’t have time to complain because the next thing he knew, one of Derek’s hands was unbuttoning his jeans and pushing its way inside.

Stiles let out a breathy moan as Derek wrapped a hand around his dick, while the other slipped around to his ass and lifted him into the air, forcing Stiles to wrap his legs around his waist.

Stiles used his slight leverage to tangle his fingers in Derek’s hair and pull his head back, dipping to lick and bite at his throat. Derek let out a guttural sound, before he dropped him unceremoniously on the bed.

Stiles bounced once, but then Derek was covering his body with his own, licking into his mouth with a hungry fervor.

Fucking finally Stiles was able to pull Derek’s wife beater off, and immediately set his mouth to the wide expanse of his chest.

Derek helped Stiles pull of his jeans before his own pants were thrown to the side. Underwear was next, and then Derek’s _mouth_ was on Stiles’ _dick_ and _holy fucking Jesus_ he was _dying_.

Derek couldn’t deep throat him but it was obvious he has experience from the way he bobbed and sucked and made Stiles nearly _lose his mind_.

“Fuck, Der, I’m gonna come.”

His mouth slid off of Stiles’ dick but his hand kept working him, and he could feel his orgasm literally being _squeezed_ out of him and when he came it was all white sparks and shouting Derek’s name.

Derek’s lips met Stiles’ in a lazy kiss, but he could feel that Derek was still hard.

“Not that that wasn’t fucking superb and all, but I do believe I said I wanted you to fuck me,” he breathed against his mouth, and Derek’s hips stuttered involuntarily.

“Are you okay with that?” his voice was lower than usual, and he was already pressing a dry finger against Stiles’ hole. It was too hard and not enough and Stiles just ground his hips back against Derek’s hand.

He groaned, “Lube and condom, bedside drawer.”

Stiles grinned, “You got lube?”

Derek huffed against his neck, “This isn’t exactly a classy place; they came with the room.”

Stiles laughed and handed him the bottle and condom but it turned into a gasp when Derek’s now slick finger slid inside of him. It was soon joined by a second and third, and before he knew it he was hard again, squirming and moaning under Derek’s touch.

He let out a low whine at the loss of Derek’s fingers, but he heard the crackle of the condom wrapper and a moment later, Derek was pushing into him, nice and slow.

He peppered Stiles’ face with kisses, propped up on an elbow as he worked his way inside.

“Fuckin’ move, asshole,” Stiles muttered when Derek hesitated above him. He was already panting, his skin felt too hot and too tight and he was already so fucking close.

Derek started moving with a moan, and Stiles’ silence him with an opened mouth kiss.

They kind of just breathed into each other’s mouth as Stiles felt Derek’s thrust become jerkier, less controlled. He came with a gasp, and Stiles came soon after.

They lay together for a long time after, just holding one another. Stiles thought about how much he loved Derek and then told him so. Derek just smiled and caught his lips in a slow kiss.

“Stay,” he whispered, and Stiles hadn’t even thought of doing anything else.

 

 

 

ONE YEAR LATER

 

 

 “Keep your eyes _closed_ ,” Derek laughed, his hands tightening around Stiles’ waist.

“But I don’t like surprises,” he whined.

“Trust me, you’ll like this one.”

Stiles just groaned, making Derek laugh again. He really loved that sound.

“Okay, you ready?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Alright... open your eyes.”

Stiles stared at the run down blue jeep in front of him. The roof was dented, the paint was chipping, and the front bumper was falling off.

It was the second most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh. My. God.” His mouth wouldn’t close, “Th-this is amazing! Did you- fucking hell- did you buy me a car?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was that back breaking. It’s not that great of a ride, but-”

“She’s gorgeous and if I ever hear you diss on my car again I’ll disembowel you.”

He held out his hands in submission, still grinning like an idiot.

“You’re amazing,” he said, and Derek came up and hugged him from behind.

“I love you, Stiles,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” he said, spinning to face him, and Derek kissed him.

“I like these moments,” Stiles said to him, “when it’s just me and you. When it’s like this, it’s hard to remember all the bad stuff. The nightmares and the scars. It makes everything… almost easy.”

Derek pressed a soft kiss to his lips and moved closer, so their foreheads touched.

“Then just you and I is what it’ll be. Forever.”

“You swear?”

“Of course,” he promised.

And Stiles thought that maybe this promise was worth keeping. 

 

 

 


End file.
